


Fulcrum

by ghostl0rd



Category: Fabula Nova Crystallis: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Crossover Pairings, Eventual Romance, F/M, Flashbacks, Friendship, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, One-Sided Attraction, Paradox, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Suggestive Themes, Unrequited Love, lightis, nokurai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:57:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 95,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1623221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostl0rd/pseuds/ghostl0rd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I trust you. No matter what happens, no matter what life or fate throws at us."</p><p>Lightis fic.  Rating is mainly for implied sexual situations. SLOW BURN</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Future is Ours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazzRaft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/gifts).



> Decided to write this author note to avoid confusion (12/04/16):
> 
> *Pre-release fic written when these bits of info were out:
> 
> *Regis design is the one right before they age him up. The one that looks like Liam Neeson. That's the voice I hear and face I see when I headcanon and write Regis in this fic. Best of luck, Sean Bean. 
> 
> *Stella Nox Fleuret is in this story before news about Square Enix rewriting her as Luna broke out. She and Luna are twins here idk. 
> 
> *No Cidney
> 
> *Lightning's wearing the same armor as Odin. No impractical boob-shaped breastplate. And definitely no XIII-2 or Lightning Returns armor. Outside of battle she wears a formal black suit.
> 
> *Characterization of Noctis based on trailers that were out before the Uncovered Event (as well as Ignis Gladiolus and Prompto)
> 
> * Caelum family members mentioned here will be retconned if we get any new information, same goes for locations described in this fic

_"Real love is always chaotic. You lose control; you lose perspective. You lose the ability to protect yourself. The greater the love, the greater the chaos."_  
**~Jonathan Carroll**

* * *

 _Cras es Noster_  

* * *

 ** _Prologue: Lucis._ **  
**_Four Years Earlier._ **

 

Noctis jumped back to avoid a potentially lethal thrust to his chest only to trip on a book on the library floor to fall full length on the carpet, uttering curses as he did. After a short pause his opponent stood over him in the incandescent light, the tip of Noctis' own sword hovering just above his throat.

"Yield," they said, re-holstering their gun blade.

Noctis' frustration left him as suddenly as the battle had ended. He was surprised at voice he heard—so gentle and soft-spoken and  _female;_ a stark contrast to the brute strength he had heard tale of and had scrambled to defend against earlier on. Then again, l'cie were not known for their conversational prowess.  
He stared up the length of the sword now, more fascinated than afraid, and a tiny bit embarrassed because despite him initiating the ambush, it was he who had been caught unawares. His l'cie was a woman?

"Yield," came the quiet command again. " _Please_."

_Please?_

Noctis nodded, conceding to defeat. "Yield."

The sword in his face was replaced by a gauntleted hand, and he was pulled upright. The knight handed back his sword before going down on one knee, bowing her head. Noctis saw a few wayward strands of— _pink_ , the colour was unmistakeably pink—hair poking out from under her helmet and felt his curiosity pique even further. She spoke.

"Your highness if I may be so bold…"

After years of being accustomed to hearing statements like that precede remarks he  _always_  took offence at, Noctis immediately moved to re-assert his authority. It was a tactic he'd picked up from his father, and eighty per-cent of the time, the comments made became easier to endure.

"Remove your helmet first." He ordered.

"Sire?"

"If I'm going to entrust my life to you I at least deserve the courtesy of being able to speak to you face to face. And rise, knight. You're the victor here—no one should be celebrating on their knees."

The last part he felt it was necessary to add because after witnessing her prowess in battle, anyone with half a brain would be smart enough to want—no,  _need_  to be on good terms with her.

The l'cie of the isolated isles of Bodhum were the last of a great race of humans who had been bestowed with Etro's power. Maintaining an indifference to worldly affairs, their only concern was protecting the crystals—Etro's lasting legacy left to the humans in the aftermath of a great war that had resulted in the fall of Bhunivelze the Destroyer.

Since Lucis' founding the l'cie custom had been to gift the heir to the throne (or rather, the future stewards of the country's crystal) on their eighteenth birthday with one of their own, to protect them until they breathed their last breath. Such a diplomatic gesture, Noctis' father had taught him, could not be afforded to taken lightly as the l'cie had ceased doing the same to the other countries long ago, and just recently, Tenebrae. Noctis had no idea what Stella's father could have said to offend them, but he had no intention of following in his footsteps…

...which was why the uncertainty in the woman's eyes after she removed her helmet and bowed her head, as if  _mortified_ , scared the ever living shit out of him.

"Sire I…" She spoke to the ground, and he could see an evident blush on her cheeks as a pink fringe of hair curtained her eyes. "This is  _highly_  unorthodox."

Noctis had always found it difficult to talk to women, but her overwhelming nervousness somehow inspired the nerve he found it difficult to muster in daily life.

"I said rise, didn't I?" He offered a hand, but she refused to look at it. He cleared his throat expectantly, and for good measure wiggled his fingers in front of her face.

"Sire I can't—"

"Up we go." Noctis' sword de-materialized in a twinkling cloud of crystal dust, and then he reached for her arms, praying she wouldn't break his.

His conscience was screaming at this point to stop but it was too late to care anyway. The next few seconds were quite comical: she seemed torn between fighting to stay on the ground and not wanting to reject a royal's help.

"Sire wait—I can stand on my own. No, don't trouble yourself I can—"

"There we go," Noctis finished, once she was standing to her full height in front of him. "Now then, what was it you wanted to say to me?"

 _"_ I was going to say—"

"I don't know how things go in the Bodhum Isles, but here it's considered polite to look someone in the eye when they're talking to you."

She almost raised her gaze at that statement, but at the last moment relented.

Noctis was impressed. The l'cie's zealousness for rules and decorum really was legendary. Except...somehow, with the tiny display of hesitation, he sensed there was a bit of a rebel in his midst. And it had him thinking that maybe, just maybe, the l'cie were a lot more human than the world had led him to believe.

 _Just a little push,_ he decided. "Am I too ugly to look at?" he asked.

"Sire?" The knight was aghast.

"I knew it." Noctis continued, pretending as if he couldn't hear her and his conscience screeching at him at fever pitch. "I  _knew_  I couldn't trust my father's advisors. Thank you for your honesty, honourable l'cie. It shall be rewarded."

"W- _what_? I wasn't implying that! Sire—" She sounded so horrified, it took all Noctis had to smother the laugh threatening to leave his lips and bury it deep.

"Sire you're not unattractive at all—"

"Oh?" His eyes flickered her way, but just as quickly her gaze returned to the bricks beneath her feet. He let out a dramatic sigh. "I suppose I'll have them all beheaded tomorrow morning for their insolence—"

" _Sire_ ," she sounded exasperated. "There's no need for that—"

"You're right." He agreed, banging a loose fist into his palm. "Incineration's  _much_  cleaner. Good thinking."

"I didn't say that!"

Noctis smiled. She was looking at him,  _finally_. "Then what  _were_  you saying?"

She cleared her throat though her gaze and voice did not waver in the slightest this time, the subtle clenching of her fists at her sides told him she was far from being assuaged. "I was going to say, with the utmost respect, that despite it being my sworn duty to protect you I do believe you can be more than capable of protecting yourself."

"I should like to think so…" he paused, reflecting on her words. "Wait. You said 'can be', didn't you?"

She nodded and went down on her knee, bowing her head.

 _Here it comes,_  Noctis thought, bracing himself.

"I don't mean in anyway to undermine your abilities," she began cautiously, "but I do believe there are a few gaps in your defences that can be remedied, and I can teach you, if you'd like, so that next time you see fit to test my reflexes I will not have to hold back. If it pleases, your grace." She added awkwardly.

That...stung.  
A lot more than he thought it would. "I'd be a fool to decline that offer," Noctis said. "I accept, but I have conditions."

"Name them sire."

He began to count on his fingers. "The getting on one knee thing seems like a hassle so it definitely needs to stop. I don't want to be walking around with you randomly dropping to the ground just because etiquette demands it. It's just…" he hesitated. He really didn't want to say 'stupid', but the word he was looking for was definitely in that neighbourhood.

"But it is customary," she protested.

"—for proposing marriage, I know."

The woman flushed. Glad there was no need to elaborate further, Noctis moved to the next item on the agenda.

"Number two: drop the formal speak—at least when you're with me. If you want me to trust you, I have to consider you my equal. No need to mince words when a few will do, plus you look like you're round about my age. You don't talk like that to your friends, do you?"

"No. But we're hardly equals."

" _I'll say_. You're way ahead of me in that department." Her eyes widened at the compliment, as if she'd never received one before in her life and it made him smile. "But don't let it get to your head," he wagged a finger. "I happen to be a fast learner, and I'm just as stubborn as my ancestors."

"I'll do my best."

"You'd better. And finally, the most important thing of all, I think."

"Yes?"

"What's your name?"

She blinked, stunned. Like he'd slapped her in the face.

Noctis crossed his arms expectantly and waited for her to explain.

"You already know my name. It's—"

"Claire, I know, I read your file, but I'm getting the sense that it's not the one you're used to being addressed by. Lucis is going to be your home for the next couple of years—given how well you manage to do your job—and if it'll make you more comfortable…"

"Comfortable," she repeated hollowly, as if the term itself was foreign to her.

He continued with a shrug. "I've read that by rite of passage l'cie are given a second name, a 'true' name to reflect their true selves and nature. And judging by the way you've reacted just now, I'm guessing you've already earned one, haven't you? Or else your elders wouldn't have sent you here. Tell me. It must be badass."

A smile finally broke through that solemn exterior. "I don't know about badass, but they call me Lightning, sire."  
_  
Fitting_ , Noctis thought. "Well, you can call me Noct." He offered a hand and this time she allowed him to pull her up. She followed him as they clambered awkwardly over the furniture and shelves that had been knocked around in the aftermath of their initial confrontation.

"By the way, thanks for agreeing to meet me in person before the ceremony," Noctis said.

"You attacked me." She sounded accusing.

"Yeah."

"Without provocation."

"As you stated earlier, I was 'testing your reflexes'."

"Was it really necessary? I don't believe it accomplished anything."

"Actually, it accomplished a lot more than I expected. And it's an age-old ritual, so don't ask."

"Expected?" She said worriedly, as he closed the library door behind them. She followed him down the hallway lined with tapestries and paintings of the kings before him while he began straightening his tie. "What do you mean by—"

He stopped suddenly, wondering if he had time to change when she collided into him, falling onto her back. "Sorry," he said, helping her up.

"It's fine. Sire—"  
_  
"Noct,_ " he corrected. "Save 'sire' for my father. I'm not that old."

"Noct," she repeated carefully. She looked guilty, like someone uttering their very first cuss word.  _At least she's trying,_ he thought, managing to keep a straight face. He indicated to the painting of his grandfather seated on the throne with his own l'cie standing to his right. Both their expressions were mirror expressions of each other and spoke volumes of their reputation.  _Stoic and immovable stone._

"It was no secret Lightning, that my father and all those other old farts before him  _despised_  their l'cie Protectors. It took years for them to accomplish the camaraderie you and I have in just a few minutes."

"Oh..."

"Not bad, huh?"

"Yes sire.  _Noct_ ," she added quickly, after he narrowed his eyes at her.

As they turned a corner and came in sight of Ignis and the other attendants, he held up a hand to stop them all from rushing at him. He spotted makeup in one of the attendant's hands and tried not to grimace.  
_  
I'm a prince, not an goddamn movie star._

"Your highness," Lightning began, seeming to interpret his pause as hesitation.

"Where are you standing Lightning? Tell me."

The ensuing silence was just as heavy as the weight of his words as she took a moment to contemplate them. "Behind you." She answered, resolute.

"Can I trust that you'll be there no matter what happens? No matter what life or 'fate' throws at us?"

"Only if I can trust that you will never try to stop me from fulfilling my duty first and foremost as a l'cie."

There was no hesitation on Noctis' part. "You can."

"Then I trust you. No matter what happens, no matter what life or fate throws at us."

Far in the back of his mind he heard the unmistakeable sound of a door being shut, and a lock clicking into place. As their echoes faded and he came back to the present he realized why. With two words he had sealed his and Lightning's fates. Like his father and his ancestors before him their destinies would now be inexplicably intertwined.

Forever.


	2. 1. Amor Patriae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change happens when you least expect it.

* * *

**Chapter 1:  
** **_Love of One's Country_**

* * *

 _The Bodhum Isles._ _  
_ _17 Years Earlier..._

It was almost dawn when the embers of the funeral pyre began to die.

Lightning was among the solemn-faced crowd, clad in white with her head bowed low. In low tones they were uttering prayers to the Goddess; right hands settled over their hearts, beseeching Her to remember the promise made, and to honour it. Until they departed this world, the l'Cie would wear black as a constant reminder that there was still work to be done. In this respect, death became a celebration of life.

Through the din of hushed mutterings she heard the unmistakeable sound of knuckles crackling and turned her head. Her chest constricted painfully. Raines' expression was a far cry from the serene mask she was used to seeing. His body was unnaturally rigid, no longer relaxed and open; hands balled at his sides as he fought to contain himself. He was trying, but she could see clear as day that something inside him had broken. And why not? Rygdea was the closest thing to a brother the man had.

Lightning's gaze flickered over to the front where Serah was performing the Sending, twirling her staff ever so gracefully to direct the glowing pyre flies; dancing to a tune only a Seeress could hear.

What if it was her on that pyre?

What if it was Serah who had been chosen by the Seeress before her to go to Lucis instead of Rygdea? And not just Serah, but Hope, Fang, Snow and the others. What if it was any one of the people closest to her? Would she even have half the strength to stand like Raines?

The answer was no; she wouldn't. Not even if it took breaking every bone in her body to try. What would be the point?

They were just glorified sacrifices. Lambs lining up for the slaughter now that the danger had passed and the war had been won. Their time was over. Bhunivelze was gone, defeated; never to return. All that remained was the fate Rygdea had chosen for himself. A fate that awaited all who were chosen to watch over the crystals.

Sacrifice: the final perfect act. The ultimate ransom paid for a greedy world whose knowledge of their race was quickly fading into obscurity.

_And for what?_

She took a step closer to Raines. Reached out, and then closed her hand over his. He flinched at the contact, but she held fast, levelling her gaze at the pyre when he opened his mouth to question her.

And then he understood.

The tears began to fall; pattering softly on the ground as the Seeress continued to dance. It didn't matter that they never saw eye to eye on the daily. Grieving was grieving. Loss was loss. Family was family.

Lightning felt him squeeze back.

And death was death.

* * *

**_Present Day_ **

* * *

If Lightning had to choose, the bunker beneath the Caelum palace rose gardens would have ranked as number three out of three places in Lucis that she felt most at home. Originally designed as a fallout shelter in the event of war by Lucis' thirteenth king, it quickly became the ideal training ground for generations of Caelums as they learnt to harness the power granted to them by the crystal.

As their knowledge of the crystal's power expanded so too did the bunker, with every incumbent tweaking or adding on a certain magical functionality to it to simplify the learning process for the next heir. A hundred years later, the bunker was now a futuristic dome, measuring a diameter of 175 feet, crafted out of white interlocking triangular pads that covered the floor and reached the ceiling at an apex of 70 feet.

At least, that's what it looked like when it wasn't in use. Thanks to an array of sophisticated gadgetry, Noctis explained, the dome was able to simulate virtually any environment in great detail, from treacherous icy landscapes and daunting stormy seas to peaceful sunlit glades, like the one she was in now.

' _Ambitious,'_ Lightning remembered saying her first day here.

 _'The future is as important to you as it is to us,'_ Noctis answered simply, happy with the newfound respect in her eyes.

But even that little ray of hope for wasn't enough to erase a l'Cie's inherent dissatisfaction at humanity. As someone who had grown up accustomed to a life centred on thinking of the  _whole_ , rather than the self; the  _many_ , rather than the one, she was continually stymied by the self-interested mindsets of the local populace. How could a race only slightly different from her own not value the crystals as much as her and her fellow l'Cie? After all that had been lost, all that had been sacrificed. All the blood that had been shed. Why, the crystals symbolized the very peacetimes they were living in!

Noctis did try explaining it to her time and time again—really, the man deserved an award for his unwavering patience—but it only succeeded in making her bitterer for it.

_'Centuries ago when they were all living in fear people had reason to be a little more devout and reverent toward Etro and the l'Cie's role in defeating Bhunivelze. Now that there's nothing to fear—what use is there on dwelling on the past? The fear is gone, Light, and time is precious. At the end of the day everyone just wants to enjoy whatever time they have on this earth. Life is meant to be lived in the present, not past.'_

_'Is that_ your _view on the matter?'_ Lightning had said, admittedly a little testily.

' _Lightning you_ know _I'm the last person who'd ever think that way. I think my own father would beat me black and blue if it ever came to that. But you have to understand that not all of us have seen and experienced what you l'Cie have. Not all of us can say that we've had tea and crumpets with the Goddess._

_How many humans will ever get that honour and live to tell the tale? And I think you're being just a little bit stereotypical. There are crazily devout individuals out there who worship Etro. They revere the Goddess everyday, probably even more than you l'Cie do without receiving so much as a smidgen of acknowledgement. To them you're living proof that God's playing favourites and some of them envy or even resent you for it.'_

_'Etro does not—'_

_'None of us_ humans  _know that Light. That's all I'm trying to say. It's just the way things are.'_

 _The way things are,_ Lightning scoffed.

A gentle clinking sound off to her right made her open her eyes. To the untrained eye it would have appeared that she was staring into an empty space. But Lightning saw the crystal shards swirling in the artificial sunlight, not five feet away, as clear as day. Like a hornet's nest they emitted an almost inaudible hum, deceptively docile.

He was close.

_Where are you…_

In this world that was not quite a world, the training ground was just one such example of the Caelum family's devotion to understanding the power of the crystal entrusted to them. The design of the habisphere was meticulous, from the artificial wind billowing softly around the arena right down to the blades of grass yielding to her footfalls as she took a step toward the anomaly. Even the sound of gravel crunching beneath her boots was so convincing she was often at times tempted to crouch and grab a fistful for more closer inspection. From her place among the gently waving grass beds she could glance up and admire an azure sky much too vibrant to be real. Even on the best of days Lucis skies were oft times clouded with industrial smog.  She didn't care for wealth, but she couldn't help but wonder about the hefty sums of money that had gone into the development and maintenance of this place. They had thought of everything.

And  _clearly_  Noctis too, who had decided that this daytime setting would be today's sparring circle. Given that the crystal granted him the ability to transverse different dimensions, areas where light was abundant, much like this sunny meadow, enhanced his power. Over time, with enough sparring sessions and diligent practice in his own time he was now able to hide himself in other pockets of this reality while he plotted ways of catching her off-guard.

But not just on the battlefield either. She hated when he pulled tricks like these; appearing suddenly out of thin air in the palace corridors, right into her waiting fist, but they always helped keep her reflexes sharp. She had a feeling it was thanks to Ignis who never hesitated to point out how grateful he was that there was finally someone to dish out humble pie whenever Noctis was within earshot. It also consequently set the foundation for her friendship with Gladiolus; with the two compiling a humorous archive of Noctis' steadily mounting losses—much to the latter's chagrin. So far Lightning was in the lead and enjoying it, but that was only because Gladiolus had been too busy running errands for Cor to spar.

' _Laugh now while you still can. I'll catch up. And when I do, you'll be sorry.'_

Lightning smirked as she boldly approached the shards. She was as unfazed by the declaration then as she was now. Maybe today he'd finally have the honour of a victory…despite his less than honourable tactics in achieving it. She was almost tempted to lose on purpose if it meant putting an end to this  _ridiculous_  one-sided rivalry.

The wind shifted, and the shards swirled around her, close enough to playfully flick a strand of pink hair off her shoulder before flitting out of reach from a retaliatory swipe of Ultima. Lightning rolled her eyes.

_So immature._

"Coward!" Lightning called, though her tone was not unkind. Her grip flexed on the handle of her gun blade, waiting.

The shards vanished. A sudden gust of wind rushed toward her from her 3 o'clock but this was  _Noctis_  fighting her,  _and if memory served—_

Lightning pivoted and easily blocked his attack from behind. Steel clashed against steel and then locked. Amber eyes regarded her in annoyance while her helm re-materialized, visor lowering to conceal her face.

And the smug smile he wasn't supposed to see.

"How'd you do that?" he demanded, an amusing mixture of incredulity and wonder at the same time. There was a purple welt on his jaw from when she'd round-house kicked him earlier.

"Defeat me and maybe I'll tell you."

"Tch." He vanished, reappearing on a large rock a few feet away. The crystal shards were no longer docile; oscillating around the Lucis heir in a glittering vortex.

 _Does this boy ever learn?_ The l'Cie wondered. "That boring tactic again?" she sneered.

Bristling at the remark, Noctis pointed at her with the flat of his palm, jaw set and determined. The vortex halted, and an array of swords, spears and rifles materialized, suspended in the air, all rotating to point at her. With his free hand he picked out a semi-automatic. They held each other's gazes for a fraction of a second, and then he smirked, closing his outstretched palm into a fist.

The weapons torpedoed toward her in deadly intent, capping speeds to quick for human eyes to comprehend, tearing everything in their path asunder. They sliced trees in half, punched holes through the thicker trunks and embedded themselves into the earth, kicking up sprays of dirt and grass upon arrival.

And none of them touched the l'Cie.

Like the lithe blade of a fencing foil she moved with graceful precision, guided only by an awareness that bordered on the precognitive. She pirouetted, swayed, and twisted away, watching the projectiles soar dumbly past without breaking rhythm. Noctis constantly teased her about the irony of her having two left feet because you never would have guessed it with the way she was moving now.

 _'You really need to sit down and watch the replay.'_ Ignis always said.

Lightning didn't understand the hype. It was just muscle memory and reflex, years of training she had endured and could never unlearn, all for the sake of the Focus. There was nothing graceful about it, but if it  _was_  a dance, then it was the only dance that mattered.

"Bored  _now_?" Noctis teased. He started shooting, not even bothering to wait for an answer. Such was their general interaction during battle, each fighting to one-up the other.

Lightning twisted aside, letting the bullets rain past her, before dropping into an impossibly low crouch: right knee bent, left leg extended out beside her, bending sharply forward at the waist.

 _Too easy,_ the l'Cie thought.

She pushed off the ground in an impossibly high leap toward him, twisting and deflecting bullets as she did. Her quick descent was just as impossible: Ultima raised, she became a hurling projectile, bearing down on him before he could even think to adjust his aim.

Or even  _think_ , for that matter. He always turned rash when he lost his nerve; a habit she had been trying since the beginning to break.

"Fuck!"

Succincter words had never been spoken.

Ultima rammed against the hastily redrawn barriers in a powerful horizontal arc, and if he had been prepared, he wouldn't have been sent flying backward.

Which was exactly what happened.

And what always tended to happen.

A groan escaped the prince as his back slammed against the nearest tree, and then he went limp, sliding to the ground and crumpling into a heap. His weapons vanished. The humming stopped. The glade became silent once more.

 _I didn't hit him_ that  _hard,_ Lightning thought, sheathing Ultima with a frown. Her helm melted away as she approached and stood over the fallen prince. A glowing Cure spell ready in her hand, she bent forward.

Eyes jerking open, the latter swung out his leg, knocking her onto her back. Sword re-materializing in his left hand, he lunged before she could react, pinning her to the ground with his weight. With his blade now hovering just an inch from her collar bone he smirked.

 _No fucking way,_ Lightning thought.

"I win." He said, strangely breathless for some reason. His eyes had returned to their usual dark blue, and they were filled with mischief.

"You  _cheated_." Lightning spat.

"So?"

Lightning kneed him in the groin. Buckling over and clutching at the wounded area in pain, the prince crumpled to the ground for  _real_  this time, bestowing every curse ever invented by man upon her. Letting out a sigh, she sat up and dusted herself off. The sounds of his groaning reverberating throughout the training ground was music to her ears.  _Hmph. Served him right_. But after a minute of it she turned, exasperated. He sounded like a dying animal.

"Look, do you want me to—"

"Don't. Need. Your help… _Cure…_ " He managed to grit out. She turned away to give him privacy, holding in a laugh as a relieved sigh escaped him. He was sitting upright when she glanced back, arms resting on propped up knees and scowling at her.

"At least you don't have to worry about not being able to have  _children_ ," she snickered. She dodged a handful of grass that went sailing for her head. She knew how much he hated that topic, especially with King Regis throwing hints here and there about how nice it'd be playing hide and transverse with 'Noctis' munchkins'.

 _Regis_ ' words, not hers.

Noctis lay back on the forest floor with a sigh, reaching upward and letting the sunlight filter through his fingertips. "You l'Cie don't like to lose, do you."

That was an unfair assessment, Lightning thought. Yes she strived to do her best in every battle, but it wasn't for the spoils. It was never about winning, not really. All l'Cie reveled in the challenge; the thrill of facing a worthy opponent because their unparalleled abilities vastly limited the list of contenders. But there were lines that weren't crossed.

"It's not the losing that we mind, but the dissatisfaction with a dishonourable defeat."

"No, it's more than that." He rolled onto his stomach and studied her. "It's almost like it's your job description."

"It's a serious job."

"Serious enough to nearly deprive Lucis of its future heirs?"

"Hmph. You deserved that."

Noctis fell silent.

"Not a good feeling, is it?"

"Whatever. The look on your face was  _priceless_."

"As was yours."

The prince laughed as he stood, dusting himself off before offering a hand. It should have been the other way around, but she had given up long ago trying to discourage the practice. He hadn't been joking when he said he harboured the same level of stubbornness as his ancestors, not to mention outdated sense of chivalry. She was the knight, not he last she checked.

Noctis was still staring while she brushed faux grass and bits of twig out of her hair.

"What?"

"Four years and I'm still stumped as to how you can move around like you're not covered in metal."

Short of covering her entire body in molasses; donning the heavy armour and refraining from using magic were the only handicaps Lightning could feasibly give herself (in addition to drinking a special elixir that suppressed her power), if only to even up the playing field. "Imagine if I wasn't." She said, tone flat.

Noctis, apparently, had been thinking along the lines of something cruder in nature because his lips curled into a smile.

She punched him in the arm. Hard.

"Walked right into that one," he snickered, rubbing it in pain before adding. "You've overtaken me in the polls, you know. Last week's hot topic was who your ideal man would be."

Lightning shot him a look of pure venom. Being sexually objectified in the media dealt a crushing blow to her pride as a l'Cie and constantly frayed the very little strings of patience and respect she had for humanity as a whole.  There were a few groups that rallied against such misogyny but as such they were few, and lacked enough support to inspire change. Adding that to the fact that the Caelum dynasty and government offices were patriarchal in nature and the matter became an uphill battle. Granted, Noctis wasn't a keen believer in this aspect of his ancestor's ideals, but his constant trivializing of the matter by teasing her had finally gotten on her last nerve.

"Keep talking Your Highness." Lightning said, fighting to keep her tone even. "It's only going to cost you your prostate."

"Yes, about that. You seem so interested in my ability to perform lately." He chuckled as a blush coloured her cheeks and leaned closer. His voice lowered in a deliberate attempt to sound seductive. "Why? Do I seem out of practice to you?"

Lightning snorted and looked away. "You  _must_  be if your relationships have the shelf life of a potato."

Noctis' face fell at the remark.

"You deserved that, too."

"I was just trying to—"

"I know what you're trying to do.  And it's not nor will it ever help so quit it."

Noctis stared, perplexed for a moment and then he frowned.

Lightning exhaled, but it did nothing to help her mood. Originally being the first female l’Cie to ever step foot in Lucis was amusing to her because she like all her fellow l’Cie knew the frivolous nature of humans very well.  It was a passing interest; nothing more.  Their interest would wane after a few months, Lightning thought, just like in the case of her predecessors.   

Except it didn’t. 

Four years on the fascination had become an obsession.  Day in and day out Lightning featured in magazines, in news papers, in Opinion Polls.  What was her sexual orientation?  Was she single?  What kind of shampoo did she use?  Was that her natural hair colour?  Did she own a dress?  Did she find her armour too masculine and would she prefer something more effeminate?  And on, and on.  No one ever asked her opinion on the l’Cie’s role in a rapidly modernising world.  No one ever asked what being a l’Cie was _like._   No one cared. 

And yet, as disappointed as she was with Lucii society she was more disappointed in herself because  _she_  had been so  _naive_  as to think it would all go away if she ignored it.

Well no longer.

"I know you're only trying to make light of the situation," Lightning said, feeling all the years of tempered frustration slowly beginning to breach the surface as she wondered: ' _why do ''I' even need to explain myself?'_   "but you can't possibly understand how insulting it is to me, day by day, not just as a l'Cie, but as a  _person_ to know that my only worth in Lucis is as a stupid sexual fantasy."

"Light it was just a—"

" _I'm not done_."

Eyes widening slightly, Noctis clamped his mouth shut, stunned. Lightning had never and  _was_  never—under any circumstance— _ever_  supposed to address him that way. She wanted to fall on her own sword right then and there.

 _APOLOGISE,_ Odin intoned angrily.  _NOW._

She was way ahead of him. "Noct—"

" _No._ " Noctis cut her off, expression neutral. "I want to hear what you have to say."

"It's nothing. I—"

His gaze hardened, and Lightning knew there was no going back now. Odin had lapsed into stony silence.

She closed her eyes, held her breath and counted to ten in her head before letting it out, but the bitterness refused to leave her.  “Caelum I've been on this earth far longer than the time it has taken humanity to rise from the ashes The Destroyer left in his wake. You can't possibly fathom the  _hell_  my brothers and sisters and I have been through to give life to the reality you're living in. The sacrifice. The  _blood_.

"Against our better judgement we listened to the Goddess and gifted the crystals to humanity, to your ancestors, to  _you,_ if only to help you start anew. And while humanity has continued to flourish and abuse our numbers have continued to diminish. It isn't a question of this being fair or unfair, but there is a sad truth that there are so little of us left, so little of us around to  _remind_  you just  _how lucky you are._ And for you to just turn around and—" she halted.

From the understanding in his eyes it was clear the message had gotten across. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and stepped back,finally reigning in the beast that had slipped through the cracks.

"Light…"

"We may not be human but that doesn't give anyone the right to treat us less than it. The jokes have to stop."

Noctis was quiet for a long while, but when he met her eyes again he was smiling abashedly.

God this boy was weird. "What?"

"Guess I deserved it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I didn't realize how much it…yeah…I'm sorry, okay? I really didn't…you know,  _think_ …"

She was so taken back by his sincerity; she actually started to feel like  _she_ was in the wrong. She crossed her arms and looked away, because his gaze was unnerving her. "Yeah, well you pissed me off."

"See that's just  _it._ Nothing ever seems to faze you so I just assume you're okay. I've told you; you can tell me anything."

"And I  _do_."

" _Right_."

Lightning had no answer.

"When I say anything," Noctis said, expression serious "I  _mean_ anything. If this is going to become a pattern where you bottle things up and explode in my face I don't know where that leaves us as partners. I've never lied to you and I need you to do the same. "

"It's not going to happen again, so don't worry about it."

"Of course not." He reached out and for the first time in four years touched her shoulder, squeezing firmly. "Because you're going to  _tell_  me next time, aren't you. Equals, remember?"

Equals. Yet another ideal of his she struggled to get used to. "Yeah. I remember." She tried to remove his hand but he kept it there, apparently not done.

"We're good, right?"

"Yeah."

"There's nothing else you wanna..." he pressed, smirking because he knew the contact was making her squirm. "You can tell me anything I won't—"

"There's  _nothing_." Lightning said, clipped.

"Are you sure? Because back there—"

Lightning shoved him off, earning a chuckle from the latter.

"Just sayin'," Noctis teased, before his expression turned serious. "So when's the big day?"

The tension left her as quickly as it had began to build, and Lightning felt her shoulders relax. "A couple of weeks from now," she remembered, from the calendar that greeted her every time she opened her fridge. It was ironic how such a barbaric topic could calm the raging discontent within her. Odin's wrath had receded as well.

The 'big day' he was referring to was  _fero pondus:_ the annual l'Cie trial where the Seeress sent one of their own to test Lightning's resolve, to make certain that the crystal's steward was in good hands. Lightning would have to face off against one of her fellow l'Cie in a duel, and win without relying on her eidolon. If she didn't, the challenger had the option of replacing her. There were rare cases where it happened, but as such they were  _rare_  and Lightning intended to keep it that way.

"Who do you think they'll send?"

Lightning went through the list of possible contenders in her head. Fang was the strongest candidate, but last she checked, the latter was with Vanille on the other side of the continent spreading good will (well Vanille more so; Fang was only along for the ride so as to beat off the latter's admirers with her lance) so they were out. Snow hated travelling—specifically, travelling  _away_  from Serah, if the unhealthy way he was tethered to his cell phone his entire time here last year was anything to go by so that checked him off the list too. And then there was Caius, who  _despised_  the world outside the temples so that only left…

"Hope." Lightning answered, grim. Just her luck. There were other l'Cie of course, but none matched up to the strengths and capabilities of the aforementioned. It wasn't out of favouritism, though. A l'Cie's power came from their faith in and ties to the Goddess, and with many leaving Bodhum to pursue lives of their own during this peace time it was only logical. The Seeress would never purposefully choose a l'Cie who had strayed from The Focus.

Noctis' expression was deliberately vacant. "Hope?"

"The teenager that came in with Snow last year," Lightning explained, before adding, "he wouldn't stop touching everything."

"Ahh." Noctis nodded. "Silver hair, right?"

"That's him."

"Should be easy then."

"Uh-huh."

"Uh-huh?" Noctis crossed his arms, smile tugging at his lips. "What's  _uh-huh_?"

"You obviously have never seen the Alexander eidolon in action."

"I've never seen  _any_ eidolon in action." He corrected, sly.

"No means no," Lightning declared firmly. He was insufferable enough during their sparring sessions.

"After four years I think I deserve a more elaborate answer."

 _Here we go_.  Since the beginning he had been whining for a match against the spirit knight, and she would have (grudgingly) accommodated him if it wasn't for the fact that Odin's thirst for honour in battle meant that any restraint shown was dishonoring his opponent. Noctis would be annihilated, reduced to a smote crater in the likeness of a man. Having dealt enough wounds to the prince's ego she knew telling him this would only add fuel to the fire.

"Fine. He doesn't like you."

The comment was actually meant to tease, but she realized there was some truth in it. Odin's presence in the back of her mind always seemed to switch from protective to borderline hostile whenever Noctis was near, and he was too proud to tell her why. Lightning had a theory, but dismissed it as quickly as it had come to her. Frankly it was implausible.  Their friendship had taken almost half a decade to build the sturdy foundation of trust they stood on now.  They were partners, simple as that.  Even contemplating what Odin's assumptions of the man's intentions toward her might be made her want to knock herself on the head with the flat of her blade.  Ridiculous, all of it.  Blasphemous, even.  Noctis was a mature (at most times) individual like her, simply looking out for the greater good of his kingdom.  It was in his interests that they maintained a good working relationship, that was all there was to it.   _There's no way he'd ever-_  

"He doesn't like me." Noctis said, breaking her train of thought. "Really."

 _A GENEROUS OVERSIGHT._ Lightning could almost visualize the sneer on Odin's face.

"You're entirely too cocky for his liking," Lightning said. "Over-confidence is something he doesn't take well to."

_ANOTHER UNDERSTATEMENT._

_Shut it._

"His loss." Noctis waved the matter away. "So…when does Hope get here?"

Lightning saw right through him. "You're not going to fight Alexander, either."

"I think that's  _entirely_  up to Hope, don't you think?"

"Just because he looks up to you doesn't mean he's going to cave to your selfish need to prove yourself. He has more sense than you do nerve. I would know; I taught him."

Noctis' smile the one which was more of a smirk, really—the one she  _hated_  because of the way it got under her skin—did not falter in the least. Her dislike stemmed partly because of the way it made women melt into putty and the fact that he was much too aware of it. Caelums were a lot of things, but humble they were not.

"What?"

"Nothing." He looked up to the ceiling. "Simulation: End."

As the forest melted away to reveal the dome's brilliant white interior, so too did her armour as it vanished, peeling back to reveal the black suit and tie she wore whenever she was in the Lucis palace. As they approached the doors, he halted in his tracks.  Lightning waited. Noctis wasn't the type to be coaxed. All it took was patience.

"My father's calling a meeting this afternoon," he said finally. "All the advisers are required to attend…except, he insisted that you don't come with. What I can't figure out is why."

Lightning could: misogyny, distrust, not seeing eye to eye with those so-called 'advisers' and wanting to shove Ultima where the sun didn't shine, namely.

"He  _says_  it's nothing to worry about, but I think it concerns the crystal."

"The crystal's in good condition; I checked. You were there, remember?"

"Yeah, but…"

"No buts." She made a fist and pressed it against his back, her own little way of reminding him of the promise made. Despite their closeness she wasn't big on initiating too familiar contact with him particularly because of his station. He was a prince, after all, and he sometimes tended to forget it. This tiny act of comfort was as far as she was willing to go without feeling she was overstepping her boundaries as his protector.  _I'm right behind you,_ the gesture read, and some of the tension left the prince's body as he registered it.

"Light—"

She withdrew her hand. "Go."

He forced a smile. "Yeah. What's the worst that could happen?"

***

After a quick shower and changing into a clean suit, hair set into a tidy side bun with a clip, she waited quietly outside the conference room, the Caelum tapestries and paintings to keep her company. The painting of Etro was easily her favourite, but the one of a young Noctis standing beside King Regis seated on the throne while Rygdea in his armour stood to attention on the other tugged at a certain place in her heart as well. A person's smile could tell you so much about them.

Noctis' smile was cheerful and carefree, filled with an innocence yet to be jaded by the pressures of growing up in a politically charged environment. Though it was obvious he resembled his father, she had a nagging suspicion that the rebellious and cocky nature she had gotten used to wasn't something he'd inherited from King Regis. In a sense, it kind of reminded her of her early years as a l'Cie; spent resenting the responsibility Etro had dumped on her. It was one of the things that helped her form a bond with Noctis; both inheriting a duty neither had asked for.  

She was at the windows watching the roses sway in the afternoon sun when the conference room doors suddenly burst open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Right when she turned her head Noctis stormed out, expression completely livid as a cacophony of protests and shouts trailed behind him. Not a few seconds later, King Regis stepped outside, expression devoid of emotion as the room fell silent. Lightning pressed closer to the wall, uncomfortable that she was about to witness an ugly exchange. If she could warp like the Caelums could, she'd have been out of that hallway in the blink of an eye.

Regis materialized right over to his son's side, restraining him by the arm. "Noctis—"

"I'm not doing it!"

Lightning did a double take, reeling at the tone. She'd seen Noctis moody on a few occasions; frustrated too, but rarely angry, and  _never_  at his father. Something had definitely gone wrong during the meeting.

And it was only about to get uglier.

"Son," Regis' voice was strained. "We don't have a choi—"

Noctis wrenched his arm away and pointed; eyes now crimson with rage. " _You_ don't have a choice— _I_  do. I can't believe—" He broke off and his expression turned hurt, eyes becoming the warm amber she was more familiar with. " _Dad_ …how could you even  _think_ to  _make_  me—"

"Noctis if there was any other way—"

"— _you_ of _all_ people. After  _everything_ you've taught me—"

Shards of crystal began to materialize behind the prince, humming menacingly.  The l'Cie tensed, ready to intervene. Regis was more than capable of defending himself, but Lightning had seen too many dangerous consequences as a result of letting one's emotions take over. There was still a well of untapped potential in Noctis and she wasn't going to chance it.

"Son… _Noct_ , please understand. It's —"

"Go to hell."

And then he was gone, leaving a cloud of crystal dust in his wake. Regis sighed.

Lightning understood the feeling well and empathized. No one ever would have guessed her sister, the sweet Seeress of their time had been more than a handful upon first meeting.  

The king ran a hand through his hair tiredly, shaking his head until he noticed her. A rare blush appeared on his cheeks and he cleared his throat.

"Lightning, hello," Regis said. "I didn't see you there."

"That was the point, sire." Regis laughed at that. "May I ask why the prince is…"

"It's just parenthood," Regis answered, weary. "Noct understands his responsibilities but he's always been hard-headed. I just don't know where he gets it from…"

 _I think I have an idea,_ Lightning thought. "Maybe I can talk some sense into him."

As a knowing smile spread across the king's face, a blush crept up Lightning's neck and she wrenched her gaze to the floor. "Your grace, if it pleases."

_Have I crossed the line?_

"At ease l'Cie." Regis chuckled. "There's no need for that. Noctis is just coming to terms with his responsibility. I went through the same thing he did. In fact, I'd be angry at me too."

"Yes sire, but I still feel compelled to…erm…"

Regis' eyebrows rose in interest. "What compels you, Lightning?"

Lightning took a deep breath. Even when in a good mood Regis was still someone to tread carefully around. "Your majesty, no one, be it l'Cie or human likes to see family members fight. I was orphaned at a young age, so I consider Odin the closest thing I have to a father-figure. If the off days where we don't see eye to eye adversely affect my balance in everyday life are any indicator, one can only imagine what kind of discord erupts when blood is added into the mix."

Regis was quiet for a moment. "I think your sword would be more convincing," he said softly.

Lightning thought so too.

From the end of the hall a new pair of footsteps approached, quickly and with purpose. Speak of the devil, Lightning thought. If there was one person guaranteed to talk sense into the young heir it was Cor Leonis, Noctis' childhood mentor.

"Your Majesty. Lightning." Cor inclined his head in acknowledgement, before focusing on the king.

While they chatted, Lightning eyed the burgeoning envelope tucked under Cor's arm stamped  _CLASSIFIED_. She'd been seeing envelopes like that a lot lately, and the way Cor tended to avoid her eyes whenever she saw him with it only made her wary. The crystal was her only duty, yes, but did it really pay to be indifferent to worldly affairs when they all seemed centred on it?

 _Should I ask?_ She thought, watching the two men head for the doors. Would it be overstepping her boundaries?

Regis turned to her suddenly. "Lightning, when's the last time you had a day off?"

Lightning blinked. "Sire?"

"Time to yourself. Time to recuperate." Regis explained patiently.

Was it a test?

"Your Majesty there are no 'days off' in matters of the crystal."

Regis looked appalled. "You've never had a day off?" He said, looking to Cor who simply turned to Lightning.

"Erm, no, Your Majesty," Lightning said before quickly adding, "but I can assure you I have no complaints to the—"

"In that case, take the month off." Regis cut in. "Go visit your fellow l'Cie, or see the sights. The Festival of the Dead is coming up I think. You must be sick of the palace by now. Actually you know what? You've twisted my arm. Make it two months."

Lightning gaped. "Your Majesty with all due respect—"

" _With all due respect,_ Lightning, that's an  _order_. And you are hereby banned from the palace until your vacation is up."

"Banned?"

"It's an expression," Cor explained, chuckling.

"I understand the expression, but—"

"Good." Regis was smiling like the cat that ate the canary. "Because I'd  _hate_  to have to make it official."

Lightning bowed her head, defeated by the thinly disguised threat. "Yes Your Majesty."

Cor offered a sympathetic smile and shrugged, closing the doors behind them. As shouts erupted from within Lightning stood stock-still in the empty hallway, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. The world around her continued to spin.

_Two months?_

Ignis stepped out of the conference room, looking dazed. Upon spotting her he walked right over.

Lightning finally found the words to speak. "Did he—you?"

"Yes. But on top of that I was also instructed to take you wherever it is you need to go."

"That won't be necessary."

"I agree." Ignis reached into his pocket and handed something to her.

Lightning looked from the keys to him dubiously. "What about you?"

"Well, as far as I'm concerned no one's ever  _died_  from car pooling so…"

"If you need them back-"

"It's fine."

A long silence passed while the two stood in collective bemusement. Ignis was the first to break.

"Well this is…awkward," he laughed.

Lightning snorted. Awkward was an understatement. This was humiliating. She watched him loosen his tie as he began to traverse the wide hallway.

"See you on the other side," he called.

"Yeah." Lightning muttered.  _Right_.

As she made her way down, past the barricades and velvet ropes and security scanners to the first floor where the public tours were taking place—while  _also_  simultaneously ignoring requests for photographs—she pulled out her phone. No well-adjusted person would go scouring Lucis for a man literally capable of being in two places at once, when all it'd take to reach him would be a press of a button.

*** 

> That went well.
> 
> _Sorry you had to see that._ _It's nothing, just the ministers being_ _DICKS._
> 
> Don't be so harsh toward your father. He means well.
> 
> _Yeah I know. Look, I gotta go._ _Need to clear my head._ _I'll explain later._

_***_

Lightning closed her phone, perturbed.

Noctis' replies had taken much longer than it usually did, and it made her wonder just what it was Regis had asked him to do. She'd never seen him so worked up—no, the more accurate word would be 'devastated'.  
_  
__But by what?_

She let out a humourless laugh. Like hell he was going to tell her. The Caelum family was notorious for keeping secrets, and Noctis was no different. He worked very hard to hide this part of himself—the Noctis that resented the rules and customs that had dictated his entire life; the  _real_ Noctis buried deep down who wanted to lash out at society— from her and the guys, because he didn't want them worrying about him.

Problem was; they  _did_.

And then it hit her.

 _'We can tell each other anything',_ he'd always seemed to insist _._ She couldn't believe it had taken her four years to understand the subtext that now seemed so blatantly obvious.

'Anything', but not  _everything._

You think you know a guy.

And what made things more complicated for Lightning was her status as a l'Cie. Noctis was being groomed to become the crystal's next steward, so any reluctance he had toward the matter was obviously counter-intuitive to her mission. There was little enough hope in the world with the crystals beginning to fade out of existence as it was. Tensions were beginning to mount between neighbouring countries and a crumbling relationship between Lucis and its l'Cie was the last thing the people needed.

The irony, however, was Lightning didn't care about any of that (and it was funny how it didn't bother her as much as it  _should_  have). Noctis didn't know, of course, and she wasn't about to rush off to tell him. This was one of the lines she'd drawn in their friendship, if only to help ease the burden he was meant to carry.

 _AND NEVER FORGET IT,_ Odin added.

_***_

_WHAT ARE YOU DOING._ It was not a question.  _STOP **RIGHT** NOW._

_STOP I SAY._

Lightning was not afraid of Regis.

Not in the least.

The man's resolve, on the otherhand…

***

After sneaking onto the palace grounds and serpentining through the corridors unseen, Lightning finally found Noctis in the library, seated near the windows.  Headphones over his ears, his laptop was open in front of him along with stacks of books forming a sort of barrier between him and the rest of the long table.

Usually, no matter how engrossed he was, whether he was in the middle of power typing a last minute speech or slaying nightmarish creatures in whatever video game he'd downloaded with the volume of his headphones loud enough to make his ears bleed, Noctis always, without fail, looked up whenever she entered the room.  _Always_. It was almost preternatural. He never did this for anyone else(she'd noticed), and it made her feel—and yes, she cringed too, because of how much her ego seemed to swell at the fact—' _special'_.  Today was the first time Lightning's confident footsteps slowed to a hesitant pace before actually stopping altogether.

She'd never seen him so…focused…irritated, too with his fingers clicking forcefully on the mouse; as if whatever article he was reading onscreen consistently served to dissatisfy and disappoint. She sat down across from him and waited to see if he would notice.

The seconds rolled by and became minutes.

Noctis did not look up; not once. Not even when he reached for a book on top of the stack right  _in front of her face_  to skim through the pages, or when she'd pointedly picked the same book up  _right_  after he'd put it on top of another stack and made for another one. Save for whatever task he had set for himself he was completely unaware of anything else. The whole world could have been burning to the ground and he probably would not even have batted an eyelash. Curious now, Lightning studied a few of the spines of the books that faced her in a bid to gauge what sea of knowledge the prince had immersed himself in.

_Rune Magic: Its Origins and Secrets, 5th Edition_

_Chaos Magic: Theories and Practices_

_Summoning: A Study_

Magic.

Of course.

For the longest time the only sounds in the library were the music from Noctis' headphones and the clock ticking toward four o'clock in the afternoon until Lightning finally stood and went around the table, dropping a hand onto his shoulder.  The way he stiffened at the contact, out of genuine shock, too, made her frown.

How immersed did a man who had always been mindful of his surroundings have to be to forget them altogether?

"Lightning?"  His gaze was unfocused, as if unable to believe she was there, and the dark circles under his eyes concerned her enough to ask a question she never had to ask until now:

"You alright?"

He blinked rapidly. "I...I'm fine, I'm just—"

An artist's rendition of Etro on the LCD display caught her eye, making her lean in close. "What are you…"

He closed the laptop(quickly, Lightning observed), shrugging it off. "Just a little extra reading. What are you doing here? Thought you were on leave. You need a break, you know."

 _I could say the same for you._ "You looked pretty upset last week." Huge understatement. "What happened?"

"At the conference?"

Lightning nodded. Was it her or did his tone seem a little too casual all of a sudden.

"Just the same old bullshit from the Council, you know how it is."

"If it's the 'same old bullshit', why'd you look ready to attack your own father?"

"What, I'm not allowed to get angry?" he laughed.

Lightning crossed her arms, stalwart. "No, I've  _seen_  you angry. But that day was something else."

The smile on his face dimmed slightly. Guilt, Lightning observed. That was definitely guilt.

_But what about?_

_IT IS NONE OF OUR CONCERN_.

"Noct, I don't know the first thing about being a royal," Lightning said, ignoring the powerful spiritual entity within, "but I do know about duty, and how hard it can be to—"

Noctis jerked up from the chair and tossed his headphones on to the table with such barely restrained aggression, she actually flinched out of instinct. He went over to the window overlooking the gardens below and planted his hands on the sill.

"Noct—"

"Light," his voice seemed to shake as he bowed his head, hands curling into fists. "If it's alright with you, I'd rather not. I just…I'd just like to be alone right now, okay? This is…it's my burden to bear. Just go, enjoy your holiday. Everything's fine."

Under any other circumstance Lightning would have nodded her assent and made herself scarce. But this…felt different. This felt like the night in front of the pyre, all those years ago. This was hopelessness and there was nothing she'd hated more in the world than people giving into it.

 _No matter what._ She'd promised him.

_LEAVE HIM BE._

She began to approach him, as calmly as she could, because he radiated tension like a cornered animal and she didn't want him disappearing out of her reach. Her tone was gentle. "Noct, you have to keep going. It might seem bleak right now but there's hope if you dig deep enough. You can't stop now. We're all counting on you.  _I'm_  counting on you."

Noctis made no indicator that he'd heard her, and it only made her more determined. Without hesitation she turned him around pulled him to her. The hug was awkward at first, and she could sense his initial apprehension from the way he stiffened at the contact, but almost immediately afterward the ice broke and his defenses crumbled. His arms wrapped tightly around her torso like a vice before he buried his face in her shoulder and exhaled raggedly, warm breath fanning out on her collar bone. Lightning swallowed, and tried not to let her apprehension show. The embrace—at least for her—had suddenly turned intimate.

Odin sensed her unease and his wrath began to stir.

 _FOOLISH GIRL!_ The eidolon's commanding tone smashed through her synapses like a war hammer.  _THE LONGER YOU CHOOSE TO INDULGE IN THIS FOLLY, THE THINNER THE ICE ON WHICH YOU STAND BECOMES. DISTANCE YOURSELF NOW._

_He is my friend._

_HE IS YOUR_ MISSION _; SOON TO BE KING. HIS BURDEN IS NOT YOURS TO CARRY. THIS YOU MUST RESPECT._

Lightning finally pulled back. "Noct," she said. "You don't have to carry this burden on your own."

He took a step back, distancing them once more, and smirked. "Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden? It's not even my birthday."

Again with the evasiveness. "Noct—"

He shook his head, refusing to hear it. "Light I'm  _fine._   _Really_." He went back to the table and pulled the headphones on again before pointing to the door. Lightning refused to budge.

"You've seen me angry, but have you seen my dad?" Noctis asked.

That was her cue to leave. Noctis always made good on his threats.

 _This isn't over_ , Lightning thought, clenching her teeth as she strode over to the doors.

Not by a long shot, Noctis  _Stupid_  Caelum.

***

 

> Why are you researching magic, anyway?  
>  You know you can ask me, right?

***

The afternoons of her 'prescribed' vacation were spent at Katzroy Manor.

Located on the top of a hill at the edge of the rich Laxus suburb, a good running distance (for a l'Cie) from her apartment, it was primarily a sanctuary devoted to the care of displaced children; but its doors were also open to survivors of abuse and other similar circumstances. Enclosed within stone walls and steel gates fashioned into a tree motif, the neighbourhood affectionately called it 'Bonsai House' in favour of the owner's famous collection of this particular species of greenery which dominated much of the grounds.

The last thing Lightning had been expecting to see when she first arrived in Lucis was a familiar face, but she did; and the serendipity of her encounter with Sazh (not to mention subsequent invitations soon after) cemented this place as her favourite in all of Lucis.  _Finally_  there was someone who could empathize while she expressed all her frustrations at Lucis society and humans in general.  Sazh's presence was exactly the calming influence Lightning needed to keep herself sane, and on some days she found herself laughing quietly at the memory of Serah saying she would be amongst friends. Lightning in all her experiences with past Seeresses hadn't expected her sister to mean it quite so literally.  And in exchange for his famous iced-tea and a chronic case of hemorrhaging ears courtesy of Lightning's whingeing, it was agreed that she would help keep Sazh's more unruly charges in line, and off the street. The method was completely up to her, so long as the children remained-and Sazh stressed: alive and _intact_.

Sazh, Lightning thought, did not give her enough credit. She'd raised a Seeress, hadn't she? Piece of cake.  

And it was.

The children—and Lightning's face always reddened out of embarrassment whenever Sazh used the term—'adored' her in ways she couldn't understand, but suspected was due to her occupation. They wanted to be warriors as well; fighters. When asked why in the world they'd want to be that way, the one answer that really resonated with her; that really made her believe there could be hope for the human race yet, came from a thirteen year-old boy who had arrived at Bonsai House the same day she did.

' _I don't want to cry anymore.'_

Four years on that boy was one of her most promising students. Which was...more than could be said for the one presently antagonizing her while she tried to demonstrate. They were at their usual place along the eastern wall of the grounds dominated by willow trees because Sazh didn't want them 'practicing' anywhere near his beloved bonsai. There had been an incident involving a rogue fire spell and Sazh still hadn't forgiven them about it.

"Remember to keep your hands down below, not all the way up here. As Irvine comes at me," Lightning nodded, and the teenager simulated a punch in slow-motion "running away isn't an option anymore. Your feet are pretty much rooted to the ground—most probably out of fear. So what you can do is twist your body like this, bending your back leg" Lightning demonstrated, letting Irvine's fist complete its trajectory without hitting her.

"But he's still going to come at you with the other fist," Seifer droned from his place where he was lying on Rinoa's lap in the grass. He gestured lazily to Irvine. "He's got two hands, hasn't he? Or are we all going to be fighting amputees?"

"Which is why I'm going to attack at the same time," Lightning said, repressing a sigh for the umpteenth time.

"Why didn't you say that earlier?"

" _Seifer_." Squall muttered, annoyed. "Shut up."

"Holy shit it  _talks_." Seifer hurled grass at him, smirking. "You gonna make me, chicken shit? Oi!" more grass went flying "I asked you a question."

The insight that Seifer used to wet the bed (according to Sazh) gave Lightning the patience (if not tempered apathy) to put up with his sass. She turned to Irvine whose fist was still frozen in place.

"And at the same time I'm going to shift my body  _toward_  his live side, raising my arm to block it. Make sure it's the lower part of your arm blocking, because your wrist is not as locked in as your elbow is. If that happens, he's going to knock you off balance.  So. While I'm doing that I use my free hand to strike— _POW_! In the same movement. It's not block and  _then_  attack; it's block- _attack_ : one simultaneous movement, just like that. He'll be disoriented or at the very least distracted by the blow. Then with your arms already in place just grab, and knee him." Irvine pretended to double over, letting out an 'oompf' for dramatic effect.

Lightning sighed. The boy really couldn't be faulted for his enthusiasm, but it still made her cringe a little on the inside. Fighting was not a game.  _War_  was not a game. And blood never washed away no matter how hard you scrubbed. Her students were much too young to understand that, so all she could do was pray they would never have to.

"Questions?" she asked.

The nine teenagers sitting beneath the shade of the willows collectively shook their heads. Lightning counted to three in her head. Eventually one raised her hand:

"Yes Quistis?"

"Could you do that in 'real-time' just so we know what it looks like? You always make things look deceptively easy."

"Alright."

Seifer wolf-whistled loudly as Lightning and Irvine returned to their starting positions. " _Do it_  in  _real time_ ', she says. Looks like someone's wet dreams are coming true, ain't that right Kinneas?" he snickered.

Irvine's face turned tomato red at the comment and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

Lightning crossed her arms. Humility really seemed to be in the cards lately. "Irvine take five. Seifer, front and centre."

Squall sighed audibly.

"Oooh you dun fucked up now bro," Zell chortled, earning laughs amongst the other teenagers as a very pale-faced Seifer stood and made his way to the mat.

 

***

> Hey. It's been almost a month and I still haven't heard from you.  What's going on?

_***_

The back veranda overlooking the rest of the Lucis capital and Caelum Palace in the distance, was Lightning's quintessential whingeing spot. After a few minutes dedicated to his ritualistic pruning regimen Sazh finally pulled off his work gloves and joined her beneath the shade of the umbrella, planting himself in the teak garden chair across from her. She gave up on trying to reach Noctis and shoved her phone back into her pocket.

"So," Sazh began, brown eyes filled with humour while he poured himself some iced tea. He wiped sweat off his brow before taking a drink. "Dajh tells me someone had a near death experience earlier this afternoon?"

The oversight wasn't something Lightning felt compelled to correct. "It comes with the territory."

"Seifer's young; rash. He's still learning about the world."

"I know. I just thought I'd speed up the process."

Sazh laughed heartily at this. "I knew I struck gold when I hired you."

"He's a natural, though." Lightning mused, reflecting on past lessons.

"They all are." Sazh smiled. He took a long sip and leaned back in his chair with a yawn. "Something else that comes with the territory, I think. They don't have role models to guide them so they create their own. I do my best, but…"

"In the end they're still on their own." Lightning said. "It's much easier to rely on themselves, much easier to survive."

"Survive, yes, but it's still no way to live."

Lightning swirled the ice around in her glass with her straw. She didn't disagree with the statement, but she didn't completely agree either. Four years ago it would have been so easy to decide. When did things become so blurred?

_WHEN YOU BEGAN TO CARE._

"That's life," she said. Whether or not she was answering Sazh or Odin eluded her.

"Spoken like a true l'Cie."

Lightning raised her glass to her lips, not trusting herself to answer. Four years ago, agreeing with that statement would have been easy as well.

 _I've been away from home too long,_ she thought.

Maybe the King was right. Maybe she did need to 'clear her head', to take a leaf out of Noctis' book. Maybe she did need to get away from it all. It'd be easy.

She snorted into her drink.

Yeah, if running away was ever in her nature to begin with.

***

> Make sure you're getting enough sleep and eating, at least.  
>  DON'T roll your eyes.

*** 

Lightning's jog back from Bonsai House a few days later came to an abrupt halt as she arrived in her street.

Parked just behind Ignis' Audi R8 was  _another_ R8 also black in colour, but with a body kit, sunset orange 18 inch rims and a back license plate cheekily labelled: 'H10FCR'.  Its ostentatious presence in the humble middle-class neighborhood of Tempus-much like Ignis' vehicle-was enough to make her forget about doing her warm down exercises to just glance at the steps leading to her apartment. There was no one waiting for her.

_Coincidence, then._

At least, that's what she'd  _assumed_  until she was forced to come rushing downstairs, halfway through her shower in a towel because she'd heard a commotion in the living room. The culprit, reclining in  _her_ lazy boy armchair, eating  _her_ food and watching  _her_ television like the entire matter wasn't anything out of the ordinary was a blonde man she had never seen before in her entire life.

A soon to be very  _dead_  blonde man she had never seen before in her entire life.

"Hey," Lightning snapped, Ultima materializing in her free hand. "Get the hell out of my—"

"I'll be right with you," he said, holding up a gloved finger, not taking his eyes off the soap opera currently airing on the 40 inch display.

Temper flaring she stalked right over, trekking suds all over the floor and stopping in confusion when it became apparent the chair he had previously been occupying was empty. The soap opera continued to roll, filling what would have made for a very tense silence.

_What the h—_

A low, speculative whistle sounded from behind. Lightning turned on her heel and swung, hitting nothing but air and…

_Crystal dust?_

"Who are you?" Lightning demanded. And why did he have the same powers as Noctis and the King?

He reappeared with the tv remote in his hand by the window overlooking the street outside and switched off the display. Before he could even speak Ultima was already airborne, embedding itself into the wall just an inch beside his ear.

" _Meow_ ," he said, flicking the blade with a finger. "Nice throw. But you missed on purpose, didn't you?"

"And I've never been one for repeating myself." Lightning thrust out her hand and Ultima vanished, reappearing in her grip less than half a second later.

"Whoa, easy there. I come in peace." He held up his hands in surrender and the weapon lowered, albeit imperceptibly. "Boy, Noct wasn't kidding when he said l'Cie didn't fuck around."

So he really did have a connection to the Caelums. Fancy that.

"We don't." Lightning crossed her arms as Ultima dissipated.

A slow smile spread across his lips as he analysed her brazenly from bottom to top, lingering on the beginnings of the l'Cie brand just above her breasts. "That's a shame," he said.

"Keep dreaming," Lightning said, refusing to pull up her towel and give him the satisfaction of seeing her embarrassed. She'd been subjected to enough of this for the past four years to have developed an immunity.

"You know; I used to wonder why his royal  _assness_  was so tight-lipped about you, but now that we've had the chance to meet I finally understand. Equals my ass," he scoffed. "You're  _way_  out of his league."

"I'm l'Cie. It's a given."

"I wasn't talking about  _powers_ , Lightning."

Lightning fell silent.

The cheeky smile on his face widened. "It  _is_  Lightning, right? Or would you prefer I call you Claire, like Noctis does when you guys are alone?"

As an answer, Lightning stretched out her hand and summoned Ultima. The insinuation was as inappropriate as it was unwanted.

"Lightning it is," he declared, still very much annoyingly unfazed.

Lightning narrowed her eyes, analyzing her antagonist. Close enough to the prince to be a confidant and high enough in the ranks to know her real name. And then there was the little detail about him being able to tap into the crystal's power like the Caelums. She didn't know the extent of the similarities, but it did not automatically quantify him as an ally in her book.  
The carefree aura he seemed to radiate in the face of being unarmed and threatened with a gun blade, for instance, only screamed to her that she needed to be careful; that he was dangerous.

"Who the hell are you?"

But even as she asked it, she'd already guessed his answer would most probably be cryptic, and it was.

" _Juuust_  a loyal citizen who's been away from home too long apparently," he drawled, slouching off from the wall and plucking his car keys off the kitchen counter. He spun them on his index finger with a smirk, allowing Lightning to see the official Caelum coat of arms key ring. "I'll let you get back to your shower now, but don't worry; there's going to be plenty of time to catch up. You and I, I think, are going to become very good friends."

"Really," said Lightning, tone flat.

"Yes, really."

"I doubt that."

"You can't fight fate, honey. So you might as well rise to meet it."

And with a sassy wink that had Ultima hurtling into another wall, he was gone.

As the roar of his engine heralded his exit Lightning stomped upstairs and grabbed her phone; entering the numbers so hard it was a miracle the screen hadn't cracked.

She knew the one person to blame for all of this.

*** 

> Who the hell was that man in my house just now.
> 
> _Lol what?_
> 
> So I need to have someone break into my house just to get a reply out of you. Good to know.
> 
> _What man?_ _A_ _nd I've been busy, okay?_
> 
> Was that really too hard to type?
> 
> _Fine you've made your point._ _Now who was in your house?_
> 
> Blonde, drives a modified Audi R8, seems to know a bit about me and A LOT about you. Also extremely rude, and capable of transversal. Need I go on?
> 
> _Shit._
> 
> You're damn right. Explain.
> 
> _He's an old friend._
> 
> That's not gonna cut it Caelum. How the hell does he know my name? And why is it you've never mentioned him before—is there something wrong with him?
> 
> _No there's nothing wrong with him, Light_ _he's…normal lol. He's with Lucis intelligence._ _Been working abroad these past_ _couple of years._
> 
> Funny I never would have assumed, given his behaviour.
> 
> _Lol why? What did he_ _do_?
> 
> That's between me and him. Soon to be just  _me_  the next time I see him.
> 
> _Haha what?_
> 
> Is he there right now? 
> 
> He is, isn't he?
> 
> _Yeah he is…w_ _hy?_
> 
> Tell him the next time I see him I  _won't_  miss.
> 
> _What did he do?_
> 
> Doesn't matter.  I'm over it now.
> 
> _Tell me what he did._
> 
> I have to go.  Serah's calling.

***

Serah found her simmering when her face finally filled Lightning's laptop screen.

The younger Farron held a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles.  "Make any new friends today?" 

"You're  _dead_." Lightning growled, eyes flickering to her phone presently lying in two pieces on the floor beside the wall with the crater in it. She had absolutely no intention of answering if that blonde-haired asshole was going to be listening in.

"Oh come on," Serah said, not sounding the least bit remorseful.

"A little warning next time."

"No can do sis. Because then you'd never be friends in the first place. The  _paradox_ , remember? If I tell you—"

"Save me the diatribe. I'm still not impressed with you."

"Put it this way: if I  _had_  told you, your new friend wouldn't have been the only one with a backstage pass to the peepshow. I'll give you a hint: rhymes with salem."

Lightning blanched. "What?"

" _You're_ welcome," Serah said, smug.

"Distance is the only thing stopping me from reaching over and strangling you right now."

She giggled. "So how are you enjoying your vacation so far?"

Lightning laughed mirthlessly. "That's rhetorical, right?"

"Workaholic."

"Hmph. Speak for yourself."

"Aww c'mon Light, it can't be that bad. Surely there's something you've always wanted to do in Lucis?" Serah's lips quirked. "Some _one_ , perhaps? "

"Not really," Lightning shook her head. "No. And I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that last part because you're the  _Seeress_  and you should know better."

"Sheesh,  _fine_. In that case…I have some news for you."

"Snow finally proposed?" Lightning yawned.

Serah pouted. "You knew?"

Anyone who knew Snow knew the man was as subtle as a naked man at a funeral. "Of course I knew," the older Farron said. "You don't really think I'd let him get away with it without a beating, did you?" It was morbid, but on days where life in Lucis was getting to her, the memory almost instantly brightened her mood.

" _Beating_?" Serah leaned closer to the screen, horrified. "You mean last year when he came back half-dead and—"

"He's  _immortal_  Serah,  _God_. It's not like I ripped his crystal out of him or anything."

"So you approve?" she asked, tentative.

"I suppose he'll grow on me." Lightning sighed.  _Like a weed._

" _Sis."_

"Just set a date and I'll be there.  _And_  my dress better not be frilly or puffy or covered in lace."

"It won't. But you'd better  _bring_ a date, knowing  _you_."

"I'll bring Odin." Odin snorted at this. "How are the others?"

While Serah took over the conversation Lightning sat back and held in a laugh. Some things didn't change after all. Despite possessing all the insight on past, present and future Serah was still dense. 

Ironic, that.


	3. 2. Eis quos amo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lightning returns to Bodhum.

**Chapter 2:  
_For Those That I Love_**

* * *

Lightning's return to Bodhum began in the same way she had arrived in Lucis: with a splash. Again and again the 30 foot waves crashed over her, submerging her and her board, wiping out everything but the smile on her face.

 _YOU HAVE BEEN AWAY FOR TOO LONG,_ Odin remarked.

 _It doesn't matter,_ Lightning said, on her stomach now and paddling toward the next wave.

_We're here now._

***

The sun was beginning to set when she finally returned to the shore, utterly bone-tired but spent in the best way possible. Serah was there with her towel and a bright smile rarely seen in Seeresses; as if completely unaffected by the horrors she refused to admit she'd seen. The only future that was certain for any l'cie was death, and Lightning knew with little doubt that Serah had seen hers. The smile gracing the younger Farron's features was certainly convincing enough.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, ' Serah began while Lightning dried herself and tried to brush away these blasphemous thoughts, "but I'm sure Lucis isn't landlocked."

"It's not," said Lightning.

Lucis beaches were the stuff of travel brochures: all soft white sand and waves as refreshing and blue as Bodhum's, but Lightning, no matter how great the number of chances she had to visit, made it a point to stay as far away from them as she could. For her they were just a painful reminder of how far away from home she was, and would continue to be. Staying away was one of the few ways her homesickness could be kept at bay. She needed to be strong; for Lucis, for the crystal, for Serah. But now, as she stared out to the receding tide, it seemed all her efforts had been fruitless. Because now that she had been here, now that she'd had a taste, the lump that had formed in her throat had become painfully harder to swallow.

"Light?" Serah touched her arm. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Lightning answered, feeling as if she didn't recognize her own voice. "Let's head back. Getting a bit hungry."

"Great!" Serah's eyes seemed to sparkle. "Because Snow's coming over and I made…." And on and on she went, completely oblivious to the way Lightning dragged her feet as she trudged up the sand dunes behind her.

 _I DO NOT BELIEVE THE GODDESS CHOSE INCORRECTLY_ , said Odin, in what Lightning was certain was his best attempt at consoling her.

 _She didn't,_ Lightning answered, a thin line forming on her lips _._ If there was any time she least wanted to hear the eidolon's condescension, it was now.

 _I DO NOT BELIEVE_ YOU _BELIEVE THAT._

_You don't know me._

Odin was silent for the longest time, but when he spoke again, his voice was oddly soft and pensive, and somewhat strained.

 _YOU MAY BE RIGHT_.

***

Hours later Lightning could feel the question that had been gnawing at her for the past four years, fighting to get out. If there was any time to speak up, it was now. Snow's singing as he did the dishes downstairs carried into the room, provoking her annoyance and giving her resolve a much needed kick in the behind.

"Serah..."

"Hmm?"

"Why'd you do it?"

Serah paused in the middle of brushing Lightning's hair. "Why did I do what?"

"Why'd you choose me?" Lightning elaborated, fiddling with the bobby pins on the vanity top. "You know how much I didn't want to go."

"The  _Goddess_  chose you, Light. I'm a vessel, remember?" Serah sounded hurt as she was forced to make the distinction.

"Sorry I didn't mean it that way. I still refuse to believe it, even now." Lightning said, immediately feeling guilty.

"Light you  _know_  I'm the last person who'd ever want you to be chosen; as great an honour as it is...and as incredibly proud I am of you."

"I know," Lightning tried to stifle the bitterness in her heart but it still managed to seep through her tone.

Four long years of blind servitude. She deserved maybe not an answer, but  _something_. That wasn't selfish was it?

"It's just… _why_?" Lightning wanted to know; deserved to even. "You said Etro chose me because I can save us, but  _how_ , Serah? I need to know. How am I going to save everyone when I'm…"

Stuck.

Stuck was the word she wanted to say. Lightning was  _stuck_  baby-sitting an advanced empire who at most needed her as a symbol of prosperity while the lives of her family teetered precariously at the edge of oblivion. If a truly terrible fate awaited the others it only stood to reason as their only possible saviour that Lightning should be with them when it happened;  _before_ it happened. What if she was too late? What then? She found her voice again. "…and from  _what_ , Serah? Bhunivelze—"

Serah's voice was pained. "I'm  _sorry_  sis, I wish I could, really I do; but I can't. Please just trust me, okay?"

"Serah—"

" _Please_ , Light. I know what I'm doing."

Lightning's shoulders slumped. "I just…"

_Why?_

The question rebounded off every corner of her mind, echoing unbearably. Why was it so wrong of her to ask?

 _THE SEERESS KNOWS WELL,_ Odin murmured.  _THE FACT THAT YOU ARE MORE ADVANCED IN YEARS DOES NOT IMMEDIATELY GRANT YOU THE RIGHT TO UNDERMINE HER._

Lightning's teeth clenched at the accusation.  _I am not undermining her._

 _NO?_ Odin did not give her a chance to respond.  _WERE SHE ANYONE ELSE YOU WOULD NOT BE SHOWING THE SAME COURTESY YOU ARE BESTOWING UPON HER NOW. YOUR EMOTIONS ARE GETTING THE BETTER OF YOU._

Serah squeezed her shoulders. "I know it's selfish of me to say, but don't worry about it, alright? You  _are_  going to save us. All of us. It isn't clear now, but it will be. And you may not believe it now, but you will."

"Just a clue, at least. Serah you have to give me  _something_. "

Serah fell silent, staring at her lap. Immediately Lightning realized why.

"There  _is_ something you can tell me, isn't there?" said Lightning. She touched her sister's hand. "Serah  _tell me_. Maybe it'll all make sense."

Serah looked at her, for the first time uncertain. "That's just it, Light—it  _doesn't_."

"So what is it then?"

She let out a small laugh. "You're not going to like it."

Lightning had waited four years. She wasn't going to wait another second. " _Try_  me."

Serah set the brush down and went to sit on the bed. Her expression was deliberately vacant as she picked up her favorite chocobo plushie and hugged it to herself.

"Serah?" Lightning asked softly, joining her. Her eyes widened when her sister took hold of her hands. Serah closed her eyes and exhaled, muttering something under her breath. "Serah what is it, tell me."

"Love," Serah whispered, opening her eyes again. There was a slightly ethereal glow in them that faded the longer Lightning continued to stare at her. "Love," she said again. "Love will guide you. Love will save us—all of us."

" _Really_ ," Lightning said, tone flat.

Serah giggled as she dodged a cactuar plushie. "That's what Etro told me.  _Really_ Light."

"That was no help at all," Lightning grumbled, grabbing a pillow and burying her face into it. Her voice was muffled. "Love? Seriously?"

"Hey,  _you_ wanted to know, didn't you? Ow!" she said, when Lightning swiped the pillow at her head. "Anyway," Serah began, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "There's...something I've been meaning to ask, while we're on this topic."

Lightning suppressed a groan. "You're going to ask me if I have feelings for Noctis, aren't you."

" _Do_  you?"

"You can't be serious."

"Well...you always seem to bring him up…" she pointed out meekly.

Lightning let out a sigh and flopped backwards onto the bed. "Because he's the one I'm with every _day_. He is the crystal's future steward and I am its guardian. It'd be hard not to."

"You mean you've never…thought of him as…" Serah gestured with her hand expectantly.

"Of course not. That would be…"

"Aha," Serah smiled. "So you  _have_."

"I didn't say that. Stop putting words into my mouth." And then Lightning turned onto her side so she wouldn't have to see that ridiculous smile on Serah's face.

"You're unbelievable!" Serah exclaimed, still not done with her. "Four whole  _years_  and you don't even—"

"Good  _night_  Serah."

She closed her eyes, but sleep seemed almost impossible despite her physical exhaustion.  _We're equals, nothing more, nothing less,_ she told herself.

***

It was only out of pure curiosity in addition to the smell of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon that got Lightning out of bed this early on a Saturday morning. And the reason for her curiosity was this:

As a side effect of being closely linked to the Goddess most Seeress most tended to abstain from the consumption of meat and other sentient lifeforms. All life was precious, from the adamantoise, to the ant. Serah eating meat again certainly raised some questions. Actually, just one, which Lightning hoped would prove to be debunked for the good of a certain Shiva l'cie who may possibly be eating through a straw for the remaining duration of her stay.

She was just thinking on a suitable way to casually inquire without making her reasons obvious when she stopped dead in her tracks. Standing in the kitchen was the last human on earth she wanted to see. He jumped as Ultima embedded into the wall a hair's breadth from his ear.

The blonde turned with the frying pan in his hand, adding eggs while the bacon continued to hiss and sizzle on one side. He flashed a thousand megawatt smile that only served to add to her rising irritation.

"Lightning, hey!"

Lightning managed to stop grinding her teeth behind her lips to answer. Her tone was low, dangerous. The very same one she used to bring a raging Odin to a heel. "I'm going to give you two seconds to get the hell out of my house before I—"

"You're so cute," the man interrupted with a laugh, reaching for the pepper dispenser and shaking it over the eggs. "Except this is  _Serah's_  house and we're  _totes_  BFFs. Hey she told me you liked pepper. Is this too much or—"

Lightning was halfway across the kitchen floor and one second away from pummeling the intruder into a bloody pulp when Serah appeared from the back door, clutching a laundry basket. She wiped sweat from her brow and smiled, not even picking up on the raging hostility emanating from the older Farron.

"Coffee smells great Prompto," Serah said.

Serah  _knew_ this asshole? Lightning crossed her arms and willed Ultima into dematerialization, waiting.

 _'Prompto.' A stupid name, for a stupid man_ , she thought.

"Palma Civet, medium-dark roast. Usually goes for 100 gil a cup but I know a guy," the man was saying, nodding to the silver cannisters sitting on the countertop along with a small rectangular box wrapped in metallic paper. "There's bacon too, in case you haven't noticed."

"Ew."

"Tch. You Seeresses and your dietary habits," he snickered, unloading the food onto a waiting plate. "You're missing out, you know."

"You should have been here twenty years earlier then."

'Prompto' or whoever the man was rolled his eyes. "I think my mother would take issue with that."

Anger was very difficult to maintain on an empty stomach, so in spite of herself, Lightning's belly grumbled—very audibly too, in fact. Both heads turned to her. Serah stifled a giggle.

"Don't worry," Prompto grinned. "Plenty of bacon to go around."

***

The fact that the man was an exceptional cook (and that she had been living off 'fast' and 'instant' foods for the past couple of months) was possibly the only thing that shifted her position on the continuum from intense dislike to moderate irritation toward him. Serah had left for the temple leaving the two awkwardly jockeying for position at the sink with Lightning washing and Prompto drying. It was an unspoken rule in the Farron household that the cook never cleaned, unwanted guest or not, but he had offered and even Lightning had the good sense to admit it would help move things along. Serah also had offered him the guest room too, so there was that.

"So what do you want?" Lightning broke the silence, throwing him a sideways glance. The man seemed to enjoy staring at her, and made no effort to hide it.

"How rude," he remarked. "I have to have an ulterior motive for visiting my BFF?"

"You work for Lucis Intelligence-you tell me. And Serah's not your BFF."

"Ahh so you've been asking Noct about me."

Lightning kept her silence and continued rinsing off the rest of the plates, stacking them neatly into the waiting dish rack.

"I'm just looking out for him," he said. "It's what I do."

"So you don't trust me," she concluded, unsurprised.

"Hey, I didn't say that."

"Then why'd you sneak into my house?"

A sly smile. "Because it's what I do for a living."

Lightning stopped what she was doing and looked at him cynically. "Lucis Intelligence breaks into people's houses and sexually harasses them for a living."

"Admittedly I  _might_  have caught you at a bad time…"

"That's why they invented door bells, prick."

"I take it breakfast and a new phone wasn't apology enough?"

"Unless you want me to beat it out of you, no."

"I'm sorry . Really," he added, touching her arm so that she looked at him. His expression was a mixture of contrition and slight amusement. "You took me by surprise, is all. I'm usually a lot more…" he twirled his tea towel in the air for inspiration"… _suave_?"

Lightning gave him a dumb look.

"Right," he said, awkward, before changing the subject. "So anyway I got you a new phone." His expression brightened as he pointed to the wrapped box on the counter. "Latest model, too. Same number."

"How'd you know I needed a new-"

"Ignis wouldn't say where you went so I took the liberty of—"

"Breaking into my house again," Lightning realized, unimpressed.

" _Technically_ , I didn't break anything."

"Technically I could break  _your face_  for bringing up technicalities."

That shut him up.

Satisfied, Lightning finished off rinsing the last of the dishes and went to work wiping down the sink and cupboards.

"So what do you want?" she asked. "Seeing as you've basically seen fit to admit that you followed me here."

He pulled out his car keys and set them on the counter. "Heard you liked speed. Take me out for a drive?"

 

~

> _Hey, been trying to reach you._ _  
> _ _Ignis won't say, but my guess is Bodhum?_
> 
> _Take care of yourself, okay?_

~

The loud thunk Lightning's new smartphone made as it slammed against the floor of the glove box made Prompto chuckle in the passenger's seat beside her.

"Knew that rubber phone cover would come in handy," he said. "What did Noct say?"

 _Nothing I needed to hear._  "So does this thing have music or what," she muttered, fiddling with the radio.

"Hey don't let it get to you. Everyone knows Caelums aren't the best with difficult conversation. It's a miracle Ignis still has all his hair, what with him practically tearing it out every half a minute."

Rather than answer Lightning turned up the volume and returned her focus on the road ahead of them. For a long while Prompto said nothing, allowing her to stew in her own thoughts, but she could feel his eyes on her. Then, as if giving up, he turned his gaze on the forest whizzing past in a green blur and drummed his fingers against the window frame, eventually singing along to the song currently filling the silence. His voice was much easier to listen to than Snow's, at least.

"How do you know Serah?"

He laughed. "You're not going to like my answer."

"I haven't liked  _anything_  you've said so far," Lightning pointed out. "I really doubt you could outdo yourself at this point."

"I really think I  _can_ , actually, but  _no_  sword-throwing—at least until we're outside. I'd rather not bleed on the leather interior."

Lightning stared at him for a long moment.

"I'm serious," he said, actually  _looking it_  for the first time. "This is a rental. Do you know how much it'd cost to clean her?"

 _Her?_ Lightning focused on the road again, shaking her head. "I see why Noctis has never mentioned you before."

"Oh honey if you knew," Prompto said quietly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The corners of his lips tugged. "You know, you're really starting to confuse me with all the questions. Which one do you actually want me to answer first?"

Lightning looked over at him coldly.

"Ugh, fine I showed up to your front door and Serah asked if I was your date to her wedding, happy? Also your sister is much too trusting for her own good."

"Not trusting," Lightning shook her head. "Serah's just always been a better judge of character than I am—gives people more credit than they deserve."

"Even saying that she should have seen me coming from a mile away. And she  _did_  have that extra room ready anyway so it's not like I'd have been able to get away with it if I  _wasn't_ an untrustworthy person."

Lightning wondered if Snow knew about the arrangement yet. "So I guess I did bring home a date after all."

Prompto's face brightened. "I thought you didn't like me."

"I don't like you. You just happened to show up at a good time."

"From your attitude toward the matter I take it little sis has been interrogating you on your lovelife?"

As the Audi stopped at a crossing, Lightning's gaze drifted to an elderly couple sitting on a park bench nearby. Prompto's gaze followed.

"It's a side effect of getting married," said Lightning, while a group of school children shuffled past engaged in excited chatter. "You start thinking that being in a relationship will solve everyone's problems, and on, and on. I don't want to kill the mood so I'm keeping my mouth shut. It's her day, not mine."

"But she's still trying to set you up, huh?" Prompto inferred with a chuckle.

"Her 'great Seeress wisdom' for my mission was to 'trust in love'."

 _DO NOT TRIVIALISE THE SEERESS' WORDS_.

" _Clever_ ," Prompto acknowledged. "So.  _Are_  there any eligible l'cie waiting for the time of day?"

Lightning gave him a sideways glance. "If there were, there aren't any now."

"Why's that?"

She looked at him skeptically. "Are you  _sure_ espionage is the right line of work for you?"

"Oh! Duh…" Prompto slapped a hand to his forehead, pointing to himself. "You mean…"

"Don't read into it too much."

Prompto looked ridiculously ecstatic anyway. "And  _you_  said we couldn't be friends."

"We're  _not_."

"Budding allies, then."

Lightning supposed she could live with that kind of arrangement. "Are you going to tell me why you're here? Flying all this way is no small thing."

"To apologize." Prompto said, but from the sudden ambiguity in those light blue eyes, it was clear the intelligence operative was still mulling over whatever he had really intended to say in his head.

Two could play this game.

~

Two weeks later the wedding had rolled around, and Prompto was over at the punch table flirting up a storm with Vanille (much to Fang's dismay). From the star struck look in the redhead's eyes it was obvious he had her eating out of the palm of his hand. The only thing stopping Lightning from dragging him away by the collar was the fact that she was in the middle of a waltz with Raines, and that she had miraculously managed not to step on his feet so far.

That fact, however, did not please her as much as the look on Raines' face when she arrived with Prompto earlier on. L'cie or not she was still a woman; anyone in her heels would be smug about the attention she was receiving,  _especially_  from Raines, because the latter was darkly handsome and had more admirers than she cared to count.

Having heard her rant about the arrogant way Noctis liked to dance circles around her Raines' had 'gallantly' insisted that they 'practice'. It'd be the perfect revenge for when she returned to Lucis, he explained, and Lightning despite knowing better had decided to humour him. Ten dances later her she finally acknowledged that he was as good an instructor as he was protector of the l'cie family. No longer were her eyes glued to the floor, nor did she shuffle awkwardly about. She had found her rhythm, finally. Serah and the others were in good hands.

"What's your secret?" she asked suddenly.

Raines' head tilted slightly in bemusement. "My secret?"

"How is it you're so good at everything."

Music filled the silence between them as he continued to lead their dance, spinning her out. When he finally spoke, his tone was soft yet taut with strain, as if the last strings of patience in him were finally beginning to unravel. "You shouldn't put me on a pedestal, Lightning," he said while she spun back to him. "Like everyone else here I have my own demons waiting when the curtain falls."

An image of dying embers and the memory Raines' consequent disappearance in the days that followed flashed through her mind suddenly, and understanding washed over her. There was no question of 'why' he left—the pain of losing his own brother would have even been too great a burden to bear for Etro's most patient son.

"You know," Raines said. "I haven't become the man I am today because of my own singular efforts. I have become who I am because of the people I've met, the friends I've made over the years."

" _And_  now you've lost me," Lightning sighed, letting her attention wander over to the head table where she'd heard laughter. Serah was squirming in Snow's lap, fighting to free her arms while the latter smeared icing from their wedding cake on her cheek. The two noticed her and grinned in unison, Snow going so far as to raise an eyebrow in speculation at her dance partner. Making a note to give him hell for it later she smiled politely back and turned back to Raines.

"The secret is trust," explained Raines, chuckling at her reaction. "I'm not an effective teacher because I was 'taught how' to be one. I'm effective because I trust in the student's abilities, and the student in turn trusts in mine. You trust that I can teach you; and I trust that you can learn. It really is as simple as that."

 _Trust, huh?_ Lightning's eyes traveled to Prompto at the mention of that word. Though his arrival was certainly unexpected, Serah's warm welcome toward him couldn't have simply been out of the goodness of her own heart. Seeresses believed in many things, but not accidents. And she  _had_ been going out of her way to lump the two together every chance she got.

"So what's the verdict?" Raines asked, noticing her pointed stares in Vanille and Prompto's direction. The Lucii spy had his arm around Vanille's shoulder and was leaning in close whispering—innuendos, and sweet nothings no doubt—into her ear.

"I'm torn between 'piece of shit' and a catch," Lightning answered honestly. Even if he had made a less than savoury first impression on her, the man did possess a certain charm.

Raines laughed. "As always, your candor is refreshing."

"And your diplomacy is too good to be true."

"You need to give a little more credit to Vanille. There's...more to her than meets the eye."

"Are we speaking from experience?" Lightning asked, now curious. She'd never assumed him to be quite so amorous given his aloof nature, but it  _had_  been seventeen years since she'd last seen him so…

"I think…that's enough diplomacy for tonight," Raines answered, sly.

Lightning laughed in spite of herself. Who knew the most serious of the l'cie had a sense of humour? She noticed him watching her, a new found fascination in his eyes.

"I think that has to be the most underused laugh I've ever heard," he said.

"It's probably because I haven't had much to laugh about in a while," said Lightning. "Or smile for that matter." That probably had to have been the most honest thing she'd said since she returned.

"Perhaps I can remedy that," he offered.

Lightning snorted. It almost sounded as if he were asking her out. "Last I checked, Cid Raines, you weren't much of a comedian."

"You're right," he agreed solemnly, "I'm not."

 _Shit_ , Lightning thought, staring at him.  _He's serious._

Odin grunted, but said nothing.

"You're surprised," Raines noted as their dance finally came to an end.

"I know I'm not the most..." she fell silent as he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles.

"It seems Vanille isn't the only one you aren't giving enough credit to," Raines murmured as he straightened.

The man was much too disarming to be real. Or healthy. Etro knew the fair number of snake charmers she dealt with on a daily basis in Lucis. She crossed her arms now, creating a barrier in front of herself. "Are you referring to me or you?"

"Guess."

Well shit.

Lightning cleared her throat, trying to retain what little bravado she had left. "I'll have to…get back to you on that one."

Raines smiled. "Take your time. There really isn't a need for us to rush things, is there?"

Alright,  _now_  he was making fun of her. "You wouldn't be saying that if you weren't a l'cie," Lightning remarked reproachfully.

"Wouldn't I?" Raines challenged.

Lightning blinked, unsure if she had heard correctly.

With a chuckle the other l'cie took a step and gently pulled her close, so as to whisper in her ear. The rich scent of cedar and bergamot filled her senses, derailing her train of thought. He smelt wonderful;  _safe_ even. "Good things come to those who wait," he whispered, "but better yet to those who  _take_."

And then he was gone, the black tail of his tuxedo trailing behind him, along with the resentful looks from other female guests. Feeling the eyes of others on her, Lightning turned and saw Prompto smirking as he raised a glass to her. Hope pretended to take an interest in the ceiling, but Fang and Vanille were grinning from ear to ear.

Great.

~

" _Soo_ …you and Raines, huh?" Prompto asked a day later, while they were speeding along the blacktop for the sky ports.

"Me and Raines what?" Lightning all but yawned. She had quickly learned the easiest way of dealing with the snake charmer was by playing his game.

He grinned. "Don't play coy."

"You'd win if I was."

"Oh you're  _good_. And here I was under the impression you'd never give anyone the time of day."

Lightning ignored the quip. "You talk about Raines like you know him."

"Know  _of_ him, more like," Prompto corrected, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "He's a close friend of the King's. When I was little I remembered he used to visit the palace for days on end. Rygdea must have meant something to him, huh."

"Yeah. They were like—no, they  _were_ brothers." Lightning said, remembering that night in front of the pyre.

"That must have sucked. You know, when Rygdea…uh…"

"It's a part of being l'cie," Lightning said, suddenly feeling tired. There was silence as the R8 came to a halt at the lights.

"Are you ready for it, though?"

"I've been ready my whole life. Nothing's more important to me."

Prompto glanced at her curiously. "Nothing at all?"

Serah.

Her fellow l'cie.

Sazh and the orphans at Bonsai house.

"There's no room for selfishness, Argentum."

He smiled, perceptive. "You didn't answer my question."

Lightning gave the blonde a deadly sideways glance. "I've never shown you Ultima in dagger form, have I?"

"Dropping the topic now."

_Thank Etro._

"So I might have…had another motive for coming down here," Prompto admitted, his voice taking on a more serious tone when the lights changed and the R8 began moving again. His expression was similarly morose, making him seem older; more like the intelligence operative Noctis claimed he was.

"You don't say."

"There's going to be a meeting in Lucis." He switched off the radio as he said this.

"Tell me something new," Lightning said, turning on her side for one last look at the beach. Who knew the next time she'd get a forced vacation would be, if ever. Serah had been crying during their farewell, which Lightning wouldn't have been very bothered about, if she hadn't seen the apprehension in Snow's eyes. Serah had told him what she refused to tell her, hadn't she?

_But what?_

What was so abjectly broken that needed fixing? Where did all this 'love' crap come into play? Why was it so terrible for her to know beforehand? Screw paradoxes. Wasn't foresight usually a good thing? What was the good of having a Seeress if—

"I've always wanted the best for Noct," Prompto said, interrupting her thoughts. "I might never have exactly been what you'd call a 'good influence'—"

"—you don't say."

"Aww c'mon," Prompto frowned "I said I was—"

"I know. I'm just messing with you."

He smiled sheepishly. "But I've always had his back; looked out for him, you know? He's like the annoying little brother in our group. These past couple of years seem to have...he's changed. Only by a little, but he's definitely changed. Yeah. He's changed."

Bodhum was finally and truly behind them now; nothing but miles of blacktop ahead of them with no end in sight. Lucis was waiting. Noctis was waiting. Try as she might, her tone still came out bitter. "Change is natural."

"In my line of work, you learn not to take things at face value. You probably know what that's like."

Lightning shook her head. "It's none of my business."

"You don't really  _believe_  that, do you?"

"The crystal is my only concern."

"That's a dangerous frame of mind to have when our world seems to revolve around them. Life in Lucis is a dream compared to everywhere else, and we have the crystal and you l'cie to thank for that. You say you don't care, but you should—it's all over the news. The world economy's in pretty bad shape. There's unrest. Resources are starting to dry up. These are all symptoms, Light. Trouble's brewing."

"Get to the point."

"Doing what I do, I like to think I know the ins and outs of Lucis. But ever since I've gotten back I've felt...off somehow. I thought it was adjustment issues-I've been away from home too long, blah blah blah, but it's not. There's something in the atmosphere somehow, something in the air. Like everything's suddenly colder. Have you ever felt that way?"

"I think you've summarized my entire 4 years here."

"Thing is, I've felt this before: this emptiness abroad, but the feeling's always been much worse there...in countries without crystals.  I didn't think I'd feel it when I got back home but I do. It's a bit muted, but it's there.  Something's off."

Lightning was careful to keep her tone neutral. "What are you trying to say?"

"I think you know."

Her lips pressed tightly together. "I would have noticed."

"Are you sure?"

Lightning glared at him.

"Look, you've seen the dome, haven't you? They've got a lot more other tricks under their sleeve. The training ground barely scratches the surface. Ask anyone. Ask  _Noctis._ "

"I trust him. No matter what."

"You  _can_  still lie to people you trust—"

 _"No matter what_ ," Lightning snapped _._  She'd made a promise and she'd sooner see herself ripping her own crystal out of her chest before breaking it. "I know Caelum. He's not like his ancestors."

"He's definitely learned well from them." Prompto muttered.

Lightning exhaled. This was getting nowhere. "You said there's going to be a meeting."

"Yeah, but I'm not so sure I should include you now, when you're so set on believing him so… _blindly_."

" _Someone_  has to. And I wouldn't if a lot didn't happen over those four years. I trust him with my life; that's no small thing where I come from. There hasn't been a day where I've regretted that decision."

"Hey, I believe in him too. But I'm not stupid."

"Are you saying that I am?"Lightning held up a hand before he could answer. There were more important things to discuss. "What were you saying about the meeting? "

"A few months ago before I got back, there was a conference between King Regis and his advisors. What I found interesting is the fact that they  _insisted_  Noct sit in. They never do that. Usually it's just an open invitation and then it's up to Noct whether he wants to attend or not, and they're usually centred on boring topics like Public Relations.

You and he travel to different parts of Lucis, you make nice with the locals, you kiss babies, take pictures, shake hands, blah, blah, blah. Rinse and repeat. Every freaking day. It's all a 'part of the plan'. The Crown Prince is at best a figure head until he inherits the kingdom. So when it comes to matters regarding the running of the kingdom, the advisors have the bigger voice when speaking to his father… _usually_."

Lightning's ears pricked up at the last part. "There are exceptions?"

"There's only  _one_ exception."

"And that is?"

"You."

"Excuse me?"

"Only with Noctis'  _explicit_  consent can anyone  _else_  be allowed to command the l'cie to do anything. It's pretty important, especially where the crystal is concerned."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"From what I've heard about the meeting breaking down because of Noct storming out and then hearing about you being forced to take a break—which in all of Lucis' history with l'cie has never been done before—it just seems…"

Lightning knew what he was trying to get at, but the fact remained. "Your evidence is coincidental. I've checked the crystal myself. Everything's fine."

"Huh. Alright, did Noct ever  _say_  to you what the meeting was about?"

"Of course not. He's been—"

"Busy?" Prompto rolled his eyes.

"Yeah."

"Busy with what?"

"You want me to say something sarcastic, don't you?"

"Ugh, are you kidding me!" Prompto threw his hands in the air.

"The road," Lightning pointed calmly. If they crashed she'd survive, but Prompto's unfinished tale would keep her up past dawn.

"Sorry," Prompto said, calming down a bit. "But it's the million gil question. Don't you see! I've exhausted all my blackmail on this guy and he's refused to budge. That, I should tell you  _never_ happens. I know everything there is to know about Noct, one-night stands, favourite positions during  _sex_ ," Lightning's face reddened at his blatantly lewd enunciation of the word and she punched him.

"I do  _not_ need to know that."

"You sure?" he said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. "Could come in handy someday. He likes being on top-which I think isn't really surprising given his title."

Things became deathly quiet in the car. And then—

"OW!" Prompto yelped, holding one hand to his nose in pain. As blood began to trickle down his chin Lightning found a box of tissues in the glove box and tossed it at him.

A hasty cure spell and a few miles later she calmed down enough to ask. "You were saying?"

"There's going to be a meeting—top secret, yeah, no surprise there—in Lucis, a few days from now."

"If it's so secret why do  _you_  know?"

"Light when I say 'top secret' I mean the rest of the population don't know. Actually, when I tell you  _anything_  for that matter, just  _assume_  that it's privileged info."

"So why are you telling me this if it's 'privileged'?"

"Because I like you, let's leave it at that. Moving on, the reason the meeting's being kept under wraps is because of who's going to be attending. Any guesses?"

"I want to say Niflheim, but your smile is putting me off right now."

"You were actually pretty close. It's Tenebrae."

"Tenebrae." Lightning repeated dubiously. "Really."

"I know, right? It goes against everything I've ever learnt as a Lucii countryman," Prompto said. "Goes against everything I've ever known about Noctis' old man, too. You know, I've lived in that place. You think the Caelum's have secrets? They've got nothing on the Fleurets. Politicians."

"So why are they coming all this way?"

"From my experience they normally  _wouldn't_ …not unless they had something to offer that we couldn't refuse, no, the more accurate word is  _need_. We have the crystal, don't we? It stands to reason that nothing they could offer would be valuable enough for us to even  _consider_  bargaining. It's one of the most fundamental reasons why Lucis has been so isolated."

"So what do they want?"

"I don't know, but if you're as curious as I am, I think we can put our heads together and find out. Noct's not going to tell me shit,  _that_  I accept, but I might know a way that you can get him to talk. I might get a little invasive, but I think we're past that seeing as I  _have_  seen you naked…" he flinched at Lightning's glare "okay  _kind o_ f. There are things I know about him that he's definitely never going to tell you so I need you to trust me."

_Trust me._

The more she heard that statement, the less she was beginning to like it.

"What do you want me to do?"

***

A few days later Lightning was outside the conference doors fifteen minutes before Prompto finally arrived. To her little surprise he'd made no effort to don a suit and tie.

 _He'd probably wear it in the scruffiest way possible anywa_ y, Lightning thought. He leaned against the wall beside her and scanned her attire apprehensively.

Lightning rolled her eyes, internally preparing herself.

"You know you can wear whatever you want, right? You don't  _have_ to wear the power suit for them to take you seriously." Lightning gave him a pointed stare, but the latter continued, and Lightning found the sight odd given his perverted nature.

"You're l'cie aren't you? That should be more than enough. Hey, Noct put you up to this, didn't he? Moron's always going on about what the advisor's think about him. We're screwed, you know, if he ascends and they're still there. I don't know which to be more worried about: idiots giving Noct advice, or Noct actually following their advice. You know he will, because Regis does."

Lightning fell silent for a few seconds and then laughed quietly.

"What's the matter?"

"I think I might have judged you too soon."

Prompto let out a sigh.

Was he actually  _disappointed_ in her? "It's a  _compliment_ , Argentum."

"Oh I know," he said with a laugh, "it's just…it's a little too early to be saying that. You don't know me at all. I could be the bad guy. Heck, I've been the bad guy my entire life. Just ask Cor."

"Good point."

"You didn't answer my question by the way."

"You won't like my answer."

"Light, I'm not like the rest of the people in power here. There's nothing I could gain or lose from hearing your opinion."

Lightning gestured at the stoic paintings of Noctis' predecessors. "For all of Lucis' technological advancements they will still be an infant when it comes to change. Lucis' successors have all been kings. The holders of the highest positions in governing bodies and leadership roles belong to men. The presence of women in Lucis is muted or at the very most ignored altogether so it's really no surprise that children at a young age – boy and girl alike grow up believing the interests of boys and men will always trump the bodily integrity and dignity of girls and women. Change is not going to happen because  _they don't want_ to; change isn't going to happen because they will  _never recognize the need_ to."

"Why don't you speak out?"

"It's not my job. And even if I did—l'cie or not, I will always be a woman first before anything else."

"Unfortunately for them," Prompto said, checking his watch. He straightened and stood in front of her, placing a hand beside her head. "Showtime," he said, smirking.

"I don't know how this is going to accomplish anything," Lightning said, more than a little apprehensive as he leaned in; close enough to kiss but far enough to carry on a conversation. To any passerby the scene would have looked like a pair of intimate lovers—which was exactly what Prompto was going for, and what Lightning had no idea  _why_  she was going along with. How the hell was this meant to get Noctis to talk? The only way it would work would be if certain assumptions and hypotheses were correct, and though Lightning knew better than to venture into that territory, even she had to admit she was interested in seeing how the prince would react. There were whispers and rumors floating around the media about their being romantically involved, and though Noctis never mentioned or acknowledged them, she didn't think he was oblivious of them either. Her curiosity was natural, she reasoned to herself.

"Is my cologne too strong?" Prompto asked, while the doors of the conference room swung open. He leaned closer. "See, there's this cute nurse at the hospital…"

"I'll admit it's a little overwhelming," Lightning murmured, trying not to squirm as Prompto's lips inched closer to hers. She could feel her face beginning to heat up and prayed that he wouldn't notice.

He did. There couldn't have been any other reason for that smirk on his face to grow wider than it already had been.

"You know you're really cute when you're blushing like that." He cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her gaze to his. He leaned even closer. "This doesn't  _all_  have to be business you know..."

" _Prompto?_ " Noctis sounded surprised and—Lightning was definitely sure she did not hear wrong—accusatory, too. The entire hallway quickly filled with the crystal's telltale hum.

Lightning saw a flash of mischief in Prompto's eyes before he looked over his shoulder.

"Noct, hey! Claire and I were  _just_  talking about you!"

_"Claire?"_

In a poof of crystal dust Prompto was suddenly gone, leaving Lightning and the Lucis heir apparent standing awkwardly in the hallway together. She could see a million thoughts swimming in Noctis' eyes, but only one braved the chilled silence.

"I thought you guys hated each other. _"_

Lightning nodded. "I despise him."

"But—"

"We've found it's more in the interests of your kingdom that we get along."

He continued to frown. "So you guys are good?"

"More than good."

"Really."

"Is there a problem with that?"

"No, it's good. He's my best friend. It's good that you guys are…" he cleared his throat and waved it off "he's a good guy—a bit of a womanizer, though."

"I noticed."

He looked at her, incredulous. "And you don't mind?"

"Like I said: we've found it mutually beneficial for Lucis if we get along. And he seems to be good at his job."

"I see." He made a start toward her, but Lightning took a step back, wary.

"What's wrong?"

"Your eyes…" said Lightning, and as Noctis' hand flew to his temple in genuine surprise, the memory of his argument with his father months prior, replayed over in her head.

Four years she had served under this man, beside him. Four years she had  _known_  him,  _understood_ him. Four years. Wiped clean in a single day. If Noctis were capable of coming close to raising his sword against his own  _kin (_ over a matter he refused to discuss, no matter how plainly the effect on him could be seen), was it safe to assume he would do the same to his own comrades?

 _SO BE IT, THEN,_ said Odin while Noctis closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.  _SUCH WOULD NOT BE THE FIRST TIME GUARDIAN AND STEWARD HAVE TAKEN UP ARMS AGAINST EACH OTHER. YET ANOTHER REASON WHY YOU SHOULD REMEMBER YOUR PLACE._

Noctis opened his eyes again. "Better?"

"Yeah," Lightning managed to say, giving a wane nod.

The doors opened again, and out stepped Regis, flanked by Cor and his ever faithful, ever squabbling Councilmen. As he came across the two of them Regis' expression became almost indecipherable: a strange mix of sobering calm and apprehension. Rather than acknowledging Noctis, his attention focused on her.

"Lightning," he said while she bowed respectfully. "Back so soon?"

"Soon enough, sire," Lightning replied, a careful smile in place.

Regis smiled, laughter in his eyes as he remembered. "The Seeress is well, I trust?"

"Yes sire. She sends her regards."

Regis chuckled, a low rich sound that reminded her of how much Noctis took after him. "Coming from the Seeress herself I cannot tell if that is a good thing or a bad thing."

"You're not alone sire."

"I suppose it's a good thing you're on  _our side_ , isn't it?" Regis said, and though he was facing her as he said it, even a blind man would have known he wasn't saying it to her.

"Yes sire."

"Good. As you were."

At that Noctis grunted and crossed his arms, looking pointedly in the other direction. When their footsteps died behind the next corner she finally glanced over. Noctis had been glaring after them the whole time.

"Floors going to melt if you keep that up," she said.

"Sorry," he ran a hand through his hair as he said it. "It's been kinda hectic these past couple of…you know."

"I wouldn't, actually, because you've been keeping me in the dark," Lightning said, crossing her arms.

Noctis looked at her oddly.

"What?"

"Nothing," he muttered, in a tone that clearly told her otherwise. "Let's just go."

He turned and started down the hallway, not even bothering to wait for her.

_STILL BELIEVE YOU ARE EQUALS?_

Lightning's teeth clenched behind her lips. A thousand evidenced arguments immediately sprang to mind, but she forced them down.

Pride had a cold, bitter aftertaste.

***

The office of the next King of Lucis was usually relatively spartan: a large oak desk situated in the centre accompanied by two chairs, an almost empty bookshelf against the wall and an old grandfather clock that neither Noctis nor his predecessors had ever (or would ever) quite gotten around to fixing. Today—and for the past few weeks as Lightning was willing to bet—chaos had found its nesting ground. The bookshelf was over stacked with grimoires, theses and historical texts, all earmarked with post-it notes in Noctis' untidy but legible scrawl with even more on the desk and into the chair Lightning took across from him. Bits and pieces of paper crumpled into balls filled the tiny waste basket and around it, along with what was looking to be the foundation for a potentially large pyramid of crushed energy drink cans.

"Someone's been studying hard," Lightning commented, in what she hoped was a subtle attempt to approach the topic.

Over at the window with his back to her Noctis laughed quietly, but said nothing. Lightning kept silent, waiting. She looked to her feet, at the wrinkled piece of paper with furious scribbles on it and it held her attention only because it had caught Odin's, who had immediately went on guard.

 _He's always been…determined,_ Lightning said, in a bid to remain loyal.  (But was it truly loyalty if she herself felt that apprehension in spite of her words?)

 _HE IS A MAN OBSESSED,_ said Odin _. SEE HOW FAR BACK HE HAS GONE; HE ATTEMPTS TO TRANSLATE THE LANGUAGE OF THE ANCIENTS._

_Perhaps he's sick of losing to me._

Odin was not nor would he ever be so easily dissuaded.  _A SINGLE WORD IN BHUNIVELZE'S TONGUE CARRIES MORE POWER THAN ANY INCANTATION YOU AND YOUR FELLOW L'CIE HAVE EVER MASTERED. THESE ARE THE BUILDING BLOCKS OF THE FAL-CIE, OF ETRO._

 _So you agree then,_ Lightning's eyes returned to the man before her.  _That inquiring about this would not be overstepping our bounds. That my concern relates to the mission at hand._

_AS SERVANTS OF ETRO YES WE ARE REQUIRED TO WATCH OUR ENEMIES. BUT MORE SO THOSE WHO HAVE POTENTIAL TO BE._

The last part had struck a chord with her.   _I will ask, then._

_DO. TOO MANY OF OUR NUMBER HAVE FALLEN AS A RESULT OF OUR OWN COMPLACENCY. I DO NOT EVEN HAVE TO REMIND YOU OF YOUR PREDECESSOR._

_I am not him._

_TIME WILL TELL._

Noctis finally moved, tracing an unknown pattern with a finger against the glass. Lightning wondered when and why he had taken to wearing his gloves outside of the training grounds. His eyes met hers in the reflection. "How was Bodhum?"

"It was a nice change of pace."

"And Serah's wedding?"

Lightning remembered Raines' offer and smiled. "Went off without a hitch."

"That's good. I'm glad you were able to get away from all of this."

In the reflection on the glass she saw him smile as he said that, and in that moment she was tempted to smile with him; to believe everything really was as 'fine' as he had claimed them to be.  But if there was one thing she had learnt from serving a being that watched over humanity from obscurity, it was never to take for granted the little details that made the bigger picture. Or the symptoms that seemed to be pointing toward a big problem.

"You know you never really did get around to telling me why you got so angry at your father."

"Oh  _that_. It was nothing really, just the usual: politics, my responsibilities, growing up, blah blah blah..."

Lightning picked up the piece of paper lying at her feet and held it up as evidence. "I don't remember you ever rushing to hit the books every time your father or the council reprimanded you. In fact I'm definitely sure it was a glass of wine…or three."

He shrugged, nonchalant. "Times change. As future King I need to be taken seriously. And you of all people know how much that seriousness decreases when people see me drunk."

"But  _why_ , though?" Lightning pressed. "I know you can be reckless at times, but never to a point where the  _Council_  feels they need to step in. They may not like you, but they do respect you. Why would you—"

A laugh escaped Noctis suddenly, cutting her off.

"What's so funny?"

" _You_."

"Me," Lightning repeated flatly.

"You're always complaining about me not caring enough, and now that I  _do,_ you're telling me that I care  _too much_. Are you l'cie that apprehensive about change?"

"We're also apprehensive about  _secrets_ ," she said.

In an instant Noctis' entire body had gone rigid. "I don't know what you mean," he said, tone evasive.

Lightning buried her frustrations and tried again. "Noctis we can tell each other anything. I'm behind you, no matter what."

"I know."

"So then tell me. Tell me what's going on. Unload." You trust me don't you?

Noctis only laughed. "I thought l'cie didn't care about politics."

"I care enough to know I don't like what it's doing to you." The laughter faded. "I trust you Noctis. Where I come from that's no small thing."

"I know, Light. Believe me I do. But you have to understand that—"

A soft knocking at the door cut him off.

"Who is it?" Noctis snapped.

"Lord Noctis?" The voice that answered was unrecognizable, but unmistakably female. Noctis immediately whirled around, face turning ashen and white before his eyes met hers. He had the look of someone whose dirty laundry had just been hung out to dry.

The woman outside let out a laugh, oblivious of the tension inside the room.

"Don't tell me you fell asleep at your desk again." The knocking resumed. "Noct if you're not out by the count of five, lunch will be on you."

" _'Noct'_?" Lightning mouthed questioningly.

"Just a second," Noctis called. Avoiding her gaze he stepped past her, rustling up leaves of paper as he did so. He stiffened as a beautiful blonde woman with eyes the colour of violets greeted him with a kiss on the cheek—a woman Lightning would have been a fool to not recognize.

But what the hell is she doing  _here_?

"Your highness," Lightning bowed, becoming the epitome of calm while her thoughts began to swim in chaos.

 _I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT OUR PAST GRIEVANCES HAVE SLIPPED KING REGIS' MIND,_ said Odin on a growl.

_I do too._

Noctis' tone was awkward as he made the introductions. "Stella this is the Lucis l'cie, Lightning. Lightning, this is Princess Stella Nox Fleuret: Crown Princess of Tenebrae. Lightning I'm afraid I'll have to cut this meeting short. We will discuss this when I return."

Lightning found herself wheeling. Why was he acting so formal all of a sudden? As her eyes met his she saw a silent plea in them for her to maintain her silence, and so she went down on one knee, bowing her head stiffly.

"Yes N- _sire_."

"You're dismissed."

"Would you like to join us for lunch?" Stella asked, when Lightning was halfway out the door. Behind the princess Noctis' expression was apologetic.

"Thank you, but no, your highness." Lightning's gaze bored right through Stella to the man behind her. Her tone was cold as ice: "I'm sure you have much more important things to talk about."


	4. 'William'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The following interview has been conducted with the l'cie's anonymity held in the strictest confidence._  
>  _Though some of the opinions expressed herein are not enough to be representative of the l'cie community as a whole,  
>  _ _they do provide an interesting insight when studying their behaviours and interactions with human society."_
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> ******Kramer Institute (Producer). (1912AF). _Unlocking the l'cie._ [Audio].** ** **
> 
>  
> 
> * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first of many supplementary chapters to help world build this AU  
> you can ignore them if you want   
> the main chapters for the story line will be in latin e.g. Amor Patriae, etc etc

**Interviewer** : ( _static_ )-with you stating you wanted to address the misconception humans have of l'cie.

 **William** :  _Misconceptions._ You aren't to blame; we are quite an exclusive club.

 **Interviewer** : Secretive, some might say.

 **William** : The only secrets we keep are the ones not ours to share.

 **Interviewer** : Back to misconceptions. Which would you like to address?

 **William** : There seems to be this innate fear people have of us.

 **Interviewer** : Is that fear not understandable? That the power that defeated Bhunivelze the Destroyer  _should_  be feared?

 **William** : It's understandable that people fear what they do not know, but Paddra has always had its doors open.

 **Interviewer** : 'Open wide, but letting almost nothing in', it has been said.

 **William** : ( _laughs_ ) Perceptive.

 **Interviewer** : Tell me about the existence of l'cie.

 **William** : I suppose…it can only be described as a complicated form of…  _symbiosis_ : two minds or souls linked to form a singular self, bound together by ties much thicker than blood and more meaningful than the human concept of 'family'. The human soul is from the world of the living; referred to by us l'cie as  _Ecumene_ ; the Seen. The eidolon soul is from world of the dead; referred to as  _Valhalla_ ; the Unseen. But this is not entirely accurate.

 **Interviewer** : No?

 **William** : To understand our existence one must closely examine the worlds of origin. For such a relationship to work, there must be common variables on both sides, elements that allow for mutualistic gain,  _reasons that make sense_ ; in layman's terms, for it to work.

 **Interviewer** : So there  _are_  logical reasons, barring magical enchantments that explain how you exist?

 **William** : Enchantments and spells are not illogical; rather they are products of logic. To control magic we use incantations; verbal commands or instructions to manipulate the crystal matter around us. Granted, the language is bastardised, not as potent as the language of the Fal-Cie, but just as effective. I'm sorry. I seem to have digressed. I do understand what you mean by 'logical', I just felt that this other misconception humans had about magic needed to be addressed.

 **Interviewer** : I'm glad you did; it certainly seems like an interesting topic for debate.

 **William** : But a complete waste of time, I assure you.

 **Interviewer** : You mentioned you had a logical reason. Care to elaborate?

 **William** : If we think of life and death as each being devoid of the other then it stands to reason that there are no common variables between eidolon and human that would help in the survival and continued existence of l'cie. One might even say that the relationship would be redundant. Would you say you agreed with this hypothesis?

 **Interviewer** : I…suppose. So then…how—

 **William** : The terms 'Valhalla' and 'the world of the dead' are not synonymous.

 **Interviewer** : They're not?

 **William** : It's the biggest misconception humanity has of l'cie. This is where the terms  _Seen_  and  _Unseen—_ commonly used by us l'cie— to describe the human and eidolon's respective places of origin become more meaningful. L'cie refer to  _Ecumene_  not as the world of the living, but as the world as  _humans_  know it; the world that  _has been seen._ Valhalla is the world beyond Ecumene; unexplored,  _yet to be seen_.

 **Interviewer** : So where do souls go when they die?

 **William** : ( _chuckling_ ) I thought you wanted to know about l'cie souls.

 **Interviewer** : My apologies—please, continue.

 **William** : 'Souls' is the key term. Humans assume that the eidolon is a manifestation of its human partner's will, and that is not totally incorrect. In reality, it is the eidolon who chooses the human. Why don't we try an example to illustrate? Tell me: what is the number one trait you value above all else.

 **Interviewer** : Well, I'm not entirely certain, but it'd have to be resourcefulness.

 **William** : Resourcefulness. ( _laughs_ ) Now there's a trait that would have been useful a millennia ago. Now, say for instance you were chosen like us by Etro. You would no doubt have been chosen by an eidolon who used 'resourcefulness' as a measure of a person's character.

 **Interviewer** : So eidolons are as alive as humans. They are not simply summoned… _beings_  you call into battle?

 **William** : Of course. Like humans eidolons have their own place of creation: Valhalla. They are living, breathing, life forms in their own right, with their own sense of 'self', able to form their own thoughts, able to make conscious decisions. The reason they do not walk freely on our plane is the same reason why we, their human halves cannot walk freely on theirs. Think about a fish trying to live on land.

 **Interviewer** : Hence the symbiosis.

 **William** : Yes.

 **Interviewer** : Is one capable of living without the other?

 **William** : It depends on your definition of 'living'. Can human and eidolon exist separately, lead separate lives? Of course. Humans and eidolon alike have been doing it since before Bhunivelze. You don't have an eidolon—you're doing pretty well for yourself: Dean of Anthropology and at such a young age. I can't imagine an eidolon typing out your curriculum vitae for you.

 **Interviewer** : ( _laughs_ ) Thank you.

 **William** : Unfortunately what I said earlier is applicable only in the case of humans and eidolons who have  _never_  been bound to one another. In Valhalla time ceases to exist, hence why an eidolon's longevity enhances the lifespan of its human partner. But that is not to say however, that eidolons are invulnerable. Enhanced regenerative capabilities aside they are, as stated before, living breathing organisms. They can fall in battle just as humans do. With a measure of concentrated effort they can be killed. And should one die whilst the other lives, all that is left for the survivor…is pain; more acute than losing a beloved one. Imagine suddenly waking up one day with your senses gone. Imagine seeing one day, and seeing nothing but darkness the next. Imagine hearing one day, and then nothing at all. Touching. Tasting. Smelling. The emptiness experienced is a void filled only with loneliness. And in time; madness. There have been times where I've had to…as a mercy, you understand… I—( _exhales_ ) I'm sorry I need a moment…

 **Interviewer** : We can stop here, if you'd like.

 **William** : No, I'd like to continue. Just give me a moment to collect my thoughts…

 **Interviewer:** Whenever you're ready.

 **William:** _(laughs shakily)_  I need to stop with the digressions, else this interview would never get anywhere. You know, if not for Bhunivelze, the common goal of protecting both Valhalla and Ecumene would never have existed, and l'cie, as a result. But He did happen, and at the moment our souls cried out for a way to save our homes, Etro answered us. A constellation formed in the skies that very night, reflecting the hundreds of souls bound together; the promise eidolon and human had made with the Goddess and with each other, to protect the balance of both worlds. You see this constellation just as winter ends. Care to hazard a guess?

 **Interviewer** :  _Mirus_.

 **William** : And with no hesitation at all, very good. In the fal-Cie tongue  _Mirus_  means 'wonder'. In today's world it's more commonly known as—

 **Interviewer** : Miracles. Perhaps the only word fitting enough to describe the l'cie existence.

 **William** : ( _laughs_ ) Many of us are content with ' _impossible_ '.

 **Interviewer** : Have you ever visited Valhalla?

 **William** : Of course. I can see that you'd want me to paint a picture for you, but Valhalla is not anything that can be simply described, only experienced—as selfish and pretentious as that sounds. It is perceived differently among different l'cie, but the feeling you have upon arrival is the same. And though  _you_  may never have the chance to see Valhalla with your own eyes, I'm certain you have experienced this feeling as well as difficult as it is to describe.

 **Interviewer** : And what feeling is that?

 **William** : ( _softly_ ) Home.

( _static_ )

 **Computer:** "Remainder of recording unreadable."

* * *

_Notes_ :  
_Rest unreadable—need to see Ignis._  
_Who is William? Is he still alive?? Dead???_  
_Interviewer's next of kin? Fal-Cie language—powerful_  
_Incantations._  
**MIRACLES**


	5. 3. Credula res amor est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, a conversation with the King.

**Chapter 3:  
** _Love is a Credulous Thing_  

* * *

“…when I return my ass,” Lightning muttered under her breath as she closed the office door.  Someone snorted behind her.  She whipped around vengefully, ready to give them a piece of her mind only to quickly bow her head when she realized who it was.  “Your highness!  I was—”

“—just in time,” Regis cut in mercifully, a smile playing at his lips. He gestured and she walked with him, feeling mortified until laughter sounded from the room, making them both pause.  “Haven’t heard him laugh like that in a while,” Regis commented as they continued.

Lightning agreed.  She’d never heard anything so forced.  “He must really like her.”

It was the nicest thing Lightning could say given her current mood toward the former, but it was also true.  Whether it was romantic pursuits or otherwise, Noctis’ title always gave him a sense of unease.  He never explicitly stated it but she knew the question that lurked in the back of his mind whenever he met someone new: _Me or my title?_ It was in the way he acted towards them; always thinking on the defensive (a habit she wished he would emulate in battle); always throwing up this annoying aloof and ‘cool’ facade.  He refused to play his cards until there was not a shadow of a doubt that he could trust them enough to be himself.

But when he did, rare and brief instances as they were—and Lightning remembered those ones with proud clarity— the ones where he _did_ venture out; where he _did_ put a little of himself out there; those moments where he tentatively came out of his shell and began to go beyond ‘ _small talk_ ’.  Where he’d ask more engaging questions and invest more interest, even going so far as to courtesy laugh to make them feel more at ease around him.  It was irrelevant that the princess was beautiful.  There had been many before her who were just as attractive-if not more.  It all simply boiled to one simple truth: there was something about Stella; something that drew the prince in. Something that made him go through such extremes to keep their association a secret from her.

Her background could have been a factor.  According to the media Stella was the epitome of what it meant to be the perfect daughter: running charities, spearheading relief efforts in impoverished parts of the world, volunteering at community centres and sponsoring scholarships—the list was endless, as were the positive recollections of those who had the pleasure of meeting and working with her.  She was driven, ambitious, charismatic and inspirational: a potent combination for any politician. 

 _The exact opposite of Noctis_.   _They say opposites attract._ _She also called him ‘Noct’._

Her lips pressed together.  Stella’s usage of that nickname suggested closeness, which wouldn’t have bothered her if it wasn’t for the _inconsistency_. They'd only known each other for what, two months?  It had taken her two years before she finally felt comfortable enough to address the prince so familiarly. 

“What do you mean?” said Regis, looking puzzled. 

Some days Lightning wondered how it was possible for someone who knew the fine print of Lucis foreign policy like the back of his hand to be hopelessly inept at understanding his own son. 

 “Sire, it’s no secret that your son has made it his life’s mission to show people that he doesn’t give a--erm, doesn't care what they think of him.”

“That _is_ true.”

They turned a corner and entered the hallway leading to the conference room, but rather than lead her inside, as she had been anticipating, he made a left for the elevators.  _His office,_ she realized.

This looked promising. 

“I suppose it could also be because Stella is an old friend from when he was little,” he mused as she stepped inside after him.

 _From when he was_ **little**? Lightning was too surprised to hide her apprehension. 

“He didn’t tell you.” He pressed the button leading to the third floor, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  “Well, he _has_ been working so hard lately…must have slipped his mind.”

 _ASK HIM,_ Odin urged. 

“Like the _Dissolvere_ between us l’cie and Tenebrae, sire?”

It was a long, uncomfortable silence in the confined space.  Lightning wondered if the elevator was moving at all.

Regis stared straight ahead, his expression sober.  “I love my people, Lightning,” he said.  “But I love my son more.  He’s young, he hasn’t seen the world like you have—he doesn’t see the world the way you do.  Can you forgive him for that?”

“Of…course, sire.” Lightning answered, wondering where he was going with this.  “It may not be by much, but he’s matured in the past few years.”

Regis laughed softly. 

“Sire?”

He looked at her in the reflection of the mirrored wall in front of him, straightening out imaginary creases in his suit.  “We humans really are such selfish creatures, aren’t we?”

Lightning averted her gaze, feeling awkward.  “That’s…not for me to decide, sire.”

“I see it in your eyes though.” Regis said.  “You gave us the crystals to help guide us into a new era; one that saw us free from Bhunivelze once and for all.  But for all your sacrifice we humans remain every bit as dependant on His power as we did back then; every bit as greedy for it.  I know you’re not ignorant to the suffering that takes place once a crystal has been lost forever.”

“We try our best,” Lightning said, thinking of Fang and Vanille. 

“But even a l’Cie’s best cannot compete against time."

The elevator doors finally slid open.  Ahead was a sea of desks that were curiously empty, save for Regis’ personal secretary who was currently on the phone.  The old man bowed his head as they passed. 

“I sent them out on an early lunchtime,” explained Regis, tapping his watch with a chuckle.  “Goodness knows they deserve it.”

Lightning humorously wondered by the look of the messy stacks of files and folders strewn all over the place, and the never-ending ringing of the phones, if they had wanted to go in the first place. 

Regis invited her to sit, then went and poked his head out the door.  “Arthur,”

“Yes Your Grace?” Came the curt reply. 

“Under no circumstances am I to be disturbed.”

“Certainly sire.” 

Regis returned and sat across from her, steepling his fingers.  “So it seems...there are some things that need to be clarified.”

No shit.  “Indeed, sire.”  She wanted to remain positive, but it was a slippery slope in light of Serah’s vaguely fatalistic prophecy and the prince’s evasive behaviour.  The two hadn’t left much room for faith.  

“I want you to know that the Council and I and _Noctis_ are very aware of the terms of the _Dissolvere_ with Tenebrae, and that we respect them.”

 “However?” Lightning knew he could have easily told her that in front of his staff.  The empty cubicles had been her biggest clue. 

“However, in matters of the..." he cleared his throat uncomfortably " _heart_ …”

“So he’s not being forced,” Lightning concluded. 

She was still annoyed, though.  If he wasn’t being pressured into pursuing the princess, then why was he acting so _damned secretive_?  Her resentment toward Tenebrae aside, she knew she would have had the maturity and professionalism to overlook it and still maintain a respectful relationship towards Stella if he’d announced it to her from the start. She’d shown the same courtesy to his exes, after all, so he knew to expect it from her.  And having known him as long as she did, she didn't subscribe to the notion that he would be too afraid to tell her because of the _Dissolvere_ itself.  

“He’s not being forced.” Regis clarified.  And then he smiled, as if fondly recalling a memory.  “You should have seen them.  This one time when they were little—”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Lightning interjected awkwardly, “Noctis’ personal life remains his personal life.  Who he chooses to involve himself with is none of my business. As has always been and will always be the case.”

“But?” Regis had not missed the reluctance in her tone.  

There was no sugar coating the next part. “But that does not mean that I would associate myself with her willingly or otherwise.  Doing so would tell the world that our laws which exist to protect the crystal are irrelevant.  That _I_ am irrelevant.  The fact that she is from Tenebrae is inconsequential. If she hailed from Niflheim or any of the other countries we l’cie have severed ties to, I would still extend the same courtesy and keep my distance.”

“Even if it is a step toward ensuring strong ties between Lucis and its allies?” Regis challenged, calm veneer faltering slightly.  “It would be a wonderful show of solidarity, you know.”

And a lie Lightning was not willing to live. “L’cie do not involve themselves in worldly affairs sire, and history has shown that 'good' is a matter of perspective.”

“Won’t you at least consider it?”

“There’s nothing _to_ consider Your Grace," Lightning made sure she sounded final on the matter. "Our laws are absolute.”

Regis did not look satisfied, but nodded nonetheless.  “Rest assured, Lightning that I have made it clear not just to Tenebrae and but all our other allies that the crystal is not up for discussion.”

“Thank you, sire.  That’s all I needed to hear.”

“Wonderful.”

 _Even if you’re not the one I wanted to hear it from_ , Lightning thought upon exiting the office. 

***

Having felt the tiniest amount of paranoia Lightning decided to inspect the crystal.  The sentry posted outside its chambers sweated profusely while she entered in the security code.

“John this has to be the hundredth time I’ve told you,” Lightning said.  “ _Relax_.”

The guard laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.  “It’s not you, ma’am.  They’ve uh, turned down the AC.”

Lightning stopped and turned. She hadn't noticed until he mentioned it.  “Why’s that?”

“Save energy I suppose?”

“You should say something about it,” Lightning told him. 

The guard’s shoulders slumped.  “Easier said than done, ma’am.”

_Ain’t that the truth._

Lightning nodded and left him to it as the doors hissed open.  The chamber that housed the crystal sat right beside the throne room, a location that the l’cie had qualms about.  It was out in the open, unsecure.  She had suggested somewhere more remote like say for instance; the basement levels, but Regis had laughed it off stating it wouldn’t be much of a challenge for her. 

' _Your predecessors hadn't had any problems with it,'_ he'd added slyly _._

Pride ensured her silence on the matter after that.

In the centre of the room the crystal—that Noctis often joked looked more like a large glass splinter—hovered just a few inches off the ground, emanating a healthy white-blue glow.  She breathed a sigh of relief, feeling her anxiety recede. It was tempting to reach out and touch it, but she had to refrain.  Where it gave energy to the humans crystals had the opposite effect on l’Cie, reacting to the one embedded inside their bodies and draining their energy.

 _What had it been like for Rygdea_? She couldn’t help but wonder after she bid John good-bye and made her way outside.  Had life in Lucis been difficult for him as it was for her?  Had he ever felt moments of doubt with Regis, no matter how reasonable the man seemed?

_Moments of regret?_

***

On the front steps of the palace she spotted Noctis just about to get in a waiting car after holding the door open for Stella.   He looked up and saw her and unable to help herself, Lightning crossed her arms and scowled.  She then turned, pretending to message someone on her phone, expecting him to close the door in her face, but he hurried over. 

“Light—”

Lightning didn’t look at him, not even when he touched her elbow as he fell in step beside her. 

“You’re going to ignore me now?”

“I thought we were going to discuss this ‘later’,” she grumbled, grateful that the driver had the inclination to close the passenger door and move the car forward a few feet.  

Noctis ran a hand through his hair, evidently flustered.  “I _wanted_ to tell you about Stella, but—”

“But you thought the _Dissolvere_ would make me 'difficult', didn’t you?” Lightning snapped. She shrugged him off and regarded him coldly.  “Do you not think that highly of me?”

“Of course not! It’s just…” He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the ground. “I know it’s a sensitive topic and I didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lightning said.  As satisfying as it was to see him grovel, she would have preferred he did it out of the public eye.  This wasn't something his people and _Stella_ , more importantly, needed to see. 

“What do you mean 'don't worry about it'?”

“Exactly what I said, Caelum.  Now go,” she said, nodding to the waiting car. “It’s rude to keep someone waiting.”

His eyes flash-froze, becoming two ice crystals.  “You spoke to my father.”

“Get _going_ Caelum.” She tried to turn, but he materialized in front of her, blocking the way. 

“You did, didn’t you?” he accused.

She exhaled.  _Better get this over with_.  “I did.  And we’ve reached an understanding regarding Tenebrae.”

Now Noctis was angry.  “You should have talked to _me,"_ he hissed.

“I _have_ been trying to talk to you,” Lightning snapped, aggressively flashing her phone in his face to emphasize her point. “For the past few months, remember?  But since you’re here now, give me your phone and I’ll pencil myself in--”

“Alright!” He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. “I’m sorry, okay?  But you _know_ how I feel about you involving my father. As soon as lunch finished I was going to come straight to you.” Lightning looked at him cynically.  “Really!” he insisted.  “But then you go and do _this_.  It’s _humiliating_ , Light.”

 _Now you know understand how I feel._ “I needed answers, Caelum.  You left me little choice.”

“I really wish you’d waited,” he said.  “But you’re right.  I should have told you about Stella and Tenebrae from the get go, and I should have had faith in you.  I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” That apology sounded more sincere than the previous one.  She decided to test the waters.  “Is Princess Stella the only reason why you’ve been avoiding me Caelum?”

“Yeah,” he said, but he didn't meet her eyes as he said it.  “Are we good? Seeing as you know my uh, ‘secret’ now.”

“Of course,” Lightning found herself saying.

He blinked, surprised, and Lightning felt as if her doubts had been confirmed by that reaction.  

“Really?" he said.  "You’re okay with all of this.  You sure you’re not feeling sick?” he teased.  He tried to feel for a temperature and laughed as she smacked his hand away.  

"Just  _go_ Caelum."

She stood quietly, watching the car roll down the driveway.  As it disappeared around the corner, so too did the smile on her face. 

_NOW WHO'S LYING?_


	6. In Valhalla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Determination is a double-edged sword.  
> Odin reflects.  
> 

One could only hope that others couldn’t see what he saw now. 

* * *

 

The great halls of Valhalla, normally filled with peaceful ambience and birdsong were for the moment occupied by the furious clashing of steel against steel.  At the epicentre Odin and Lightning circled each other, sword in hand, tension building in the latter while wind whipped her hair at her face.  Odin knew she could sense the presence of Hope and Alexander hovering just outside the boundaries of their shared space.  In a few weeks _fero pondus_ would be upon them, but a single hint of doubt from the two could render the test redundant. They were not here for a display of power but a display in _synergy_.  Proof that Lightning and he were still one.  A l'cie's power came from the bond between human and eidolon.  Trust strengthened that bond. 

_And doubt…_

He lowered his sword just as Lightning began to charge.  She skidded to a halt, equal parts confused and frustrated. 

“What are you doing!” she yelled, before quickly directing their conversation inward as she stalked over to him.  _THEY ARE_ WATCHING _!_

_They have seen what they have come to see._

Irritated, but knowing better than to cause a scene, Lightning shoved Ultima aggressively back into its sheath.

Odin sheathed _Tyrving_ as well and took a good, hard look at her.  He could see the imbalance as clearly as he could feel it causing tremors beneath their feet.  The unusual stiffness of her shoulders, the rigid way in which she handled Ultima: not as an extension of herself, as he had _always_ taught—countlessly, and without mercy—not as a needle which she could use to weave her way behind her opponent’s defences, but as a means of forcing her way through.  An object to be used with brute force. There was concentration and focus in the bright blue glow of her eyes, he made no mistake about that; but they, along with her warrior’s heart were not in this battle.

Sensing his apprehension she rolled her eyes. 

Odin turned his gaze skyward _._ “We’re done,” he declared in a gruff voice, for their audience’s benefit.  

Not a moment later, Alexander’s chuckle reverberated throughout the entire battlefield. 

 _FOR NOW,_ he answered, the smugness of his tone confirming the worst of Odin’s fears.  In the next instant he and Hope were gone; as was the unnaturally strong wind that had given away their presence in the first place. 

Lightning crossed her arms over her chest, voice tight with annoyance.  She glared.  “You wanna tell me what the hell _that_ was about?”

Odin waited until the wind died before speaking.  _Better safe than sorry_. “They saw nothing,” he replied instead.  “I am determined to keep it that way.”

“Look, if there’s something you want to say to me then say it,” Lightning snapped.  “I don’t have time for your riddles. Suffer through enough of them in the living world as it is,” she added under her breath.

“Then I’ll get straight to the point,” Odin decided, pining her where she stood with a level stare.  “The present company he keeps aside, what crime has Caelum committed to make you this incensed?  Or is it the _closeness_ of that company that draws your ire?”

“He’s _hiding_ something, Odin!  All the years that I—that _we’ve_ known him—”

“I remain as apprehensive as you are about their presence but Tenebrae has done _nothing_ to suggest that they are interested in anything else, save strengthening their ties to Lucis,” Odin continued calmly while Lightning seethed and pointedly stared at the ground. “It is our duty to respect it.  Caelum's romantic pursuits have held none of our interests in the past; why should the Fleuret woman be any different?”

“Because of the _implications_ ,” Lightning hissed out.  “Surely you can’t be so _naïve_ as to _assume_ —” 

“The _only_ interest we _should_ have is whether this will hinder in our ability to protect the crystal and so far that young woman has given me no cause to believe so.  King Regis himself has given his word that the Dissolvere will be observed." How far the latter was willing to go, however; was a matter he would only concern himself with if need ever arose.  And in the past few weeks, he hadn't been given cause to.  All was well--for the most part.  "It is enough.”

“You've forgotten, haven’t you?” Lightning muttered, gaze still averted.  

Valhalla lapsed into strained silence.  The accusation was a bucket of ice-cold water to the face, yes, but it wasn’t what floored him. What stunned the eidolon, had Odin staggering backward, was the hurt from the realization that she _actually believed it to be true._

The tremors began to intensify, tiny pebbles on the ground beginning to vibrate at their feet. 

“ _Never_ ,” Odin growled, trying to keep a level tone.  “Be it twenty years or a hundred: sacrifice is still a _choice_ —” he stopped suddenly, floored a second time:

Lightning had turned, and had begun to walk.

“Lightning—” but he had waited a moment too late, and was forced to watch as her outline faded back into the Seen. 

_Lightning..._

Amongst their siblings, always had they been shining example the others could look up to.  Always so perfectly in sync; always so unwavering devoted to their cause, he always used to puzzle over why the Seeress had never once tasked them with protecting her crystals.  The humility he learnt in that instant was difficult to swallow, impossible to comprehend and accept. They both desired the same end: to protect their fellow l’Cie, to protect the crystal; their shared zealousness in achieving it was what had brought them together. Never once had he ever anticipated that it was also just as capable of driving them apart. 

Far in the distance a rooster’s crow sounded, as if heralding her departure.   

 _An omen,_ the eidolon observed, _and not a good one_. 

He waited in solemn silence until it ended, and when Valhalla was finally silent he took off his helm and knelt, placing it carefully on the trembling ground beside him.  With his head bowed and eyes closed, he did the first thing he hadn’t needed to do in the thousand years since becoming one with Lightning:

He prayed to the Goddess. 

But unbeknownst to Odin; someone else had been listening in.  


	7. 4. Fide et amor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which more questions arise and loyalties come into question.

**Chapter 4:**  
_Faithfully and Lovingly_

* * *

Never in their history of polite smiles and banal small talk in the palace corridors would Lightning have ever expected Ignis to invite her over to his house.  He was pleasant company to be around, true, but Lightning had always assumed that their amicability was more out of respect toward the inevitable overlap of their responsibilities, and as a favour to Noctis.  Yet here she was. 

Bemusement however rare for  _any_ l’Cie to experience was not enough to shake the resentment beginning to fester inside.  _After lunch_ , he’d promised, and she’d _waited_ ; at her usual spot outside the conference room.  Hours came and went, the office closed, the cleaners arrived at eight—left at eleven PM on schedule—and Noctis never showed; only Ignis gently tapping her on the elbow a few minutes after midnight to offer her a ride home.

The humiliation she'd felt hadn’t even been the worst part. The worst part was the _knowing,_ the _expecting_ —immediately after she sat down—that he wasn’t going to show.  The exasperation and mocking in his tone she’d heard just hours before: ‘ _are you that apprehensive about change?’_ It made her wonder—as she lay awake in bed that night and the nights after; unable to sleep while the rest of Lucis did—how the l’Cie could _ever_ have hoped stay relevant in a world that only seemed so eager to leave them behind. 

Made her for the briefest of moments, feel _exactly_ as she had felt the very day she’d arrived in Lucis:

Isolated from her people; alone. 

 _PERHAPS_ NOW _YOU WILL FOCUS MORE ON THE MISSION AT HAND._

Lightning slammed the car door shut, soundly ignoring Prompto’s protests and scanned the empty streets before preoccupying herself with the two storey house in front of them; eyes flickering to the number embossed on the front door.  

“Seventeen?” she asked, pretending not to notice the curious eyes staring at them from behind curtained windows, gaze hardening while she eyed the shiny red Integra parked in the driveway. 

 _AN OMEN, PERHAPS?_ Odin wondered, referring to the colour. 

 _Stop being superstitious_. 

 _YOU HESITATED,_ he had no reluctance in pointing out.  _I NOTICED._

 “Affirmative,” Prompto chirped from behind.  He pulled a large cardboard box filled with files from the boot and locked the car, then came to a halt beside her, concern in his eyes.  “You know; you’ve been a bit… _quieter,_ lately. Everything okay?”

“ _Fantastic_.”

She started up the stairs without him.

“Just putting it out there,” Prompto muttered. He set the box on the bench while Lightning rang the doorbell. When it wasn’t answered immediately, she went over to the porch railings and sat, determined to seethe until the vegetable garden caught her interest.  It was immaculately maintained; not a single cabbage caterpillar or aphid in sight. 

_Vanille eat your heart out._

“You should see his resume,” Prompto grinned, ringing the doorbell a couple more times before joining her.  “Gardening, cooking…even alters his own clothes.  He’s a human pocket knife.  Checks all the boxes.” The light in his eyes dimmed.  “Don’t know if he’s seeing anyone, though.  None of us have been able to hang out like we used to.”

“Maybe you’re just not trying hard enough,” Lightning grumbled.

“Ouch.”

The door opened then, and a woman with wavy blonde hair that reached just past her thighs stepped out, Ignis following. In her hands was a brown A4 envelope.  Lightning forgot her anger briefly.  _She looks familiar,_ the l’Cie thought, trying to place her _._

 “Once again I appreciate you coming all this way Doctor,” Ignis was saying, nodding at the two of them in acknowledgement.    Prompto smiled appreciatively as the woman passed, that smile growing wider as his gaze lingered on her ass. 

 _Doctor?_ Lightning wondered. Her first thought had been ‘medicine’, but the fact that Ignis was the poster child for health and hygiene gave her doubts. 

“Not a problem,” the woman said, her voice bringing Lightning back to centre.  The Integra was halfway out the driveway now.   “It’s not every day I meet someone who _isn’t_ out to discredit the Nabaat family name.” She held up the envelope. “ _And_ does his homework.”

“I’ll have everything back to you by the end of the week,” Ignis promised.

Prompto was silent until they got inside, carelessly dropping the box onto the dining room table. He spun and pointed, a ridiculous grin on his face. “You sly devil,”

“Oh for _godsake_ —”

“Is ‘homework’ the new code?  You guys got some kinky student-teacher roleplay going on?”

Ignis turned to Lightning, visibly embarassed.  “Still wondering why Noct never mentioned him?”

Lightning crossed her arms and kept her silence.  _Better you than me,_ she thought.  He’d only recently given up on pestering her about Raines and she wasn’t about to get dragged into the crossfire. 

“I was _undercover and working,_ ” Prompto puffed out his chest.“Orders from the King himself.”

"I heard it was Cor's idea."

"Pfft." Prompto went over to the fridge and helped himself to a glass of orange juice, smirking to himself before taking a sip.  “Noct’s always been threatened by my good looks.”

“Yes we would be _fools_ to think otherwise,” Ignis sighed.

“Whatever, ‘ _homework’.”_

“Prompto I’m only going to say this once because next time I’ll just set you on fire…”

While the two continued to bicker Lightning moved into the living room.  A messy heap of papers, folders, files and ring binders scattered on the coffee table in the house of one of the most scrupulously organised people she knew was certainly a point of interest. She sat down and picked up the bright red shoebox on the couch. 

**Transcripts & Recordings**

Inside sat a collection of recently restored mini-cassette tapes, the majority of which were labelled ‘William’: a name that meant absolutely nothing to her.  She replaced the lid and assessed the disaster zone on the coffee table, trying to see if she could guess what it was Ignis strangely couldn't discuss with her at the palace.  The paperwork consisted of dated black and white photographs of people she’d never met or seen before of varying ethnicity, nationalities and ages along with personal details and notes hastily jotted down in the margins (or whatever blank spaces could be found). 

A memory of standing guard during Noctis’ late night studying sessions with Ignis returned to Lightning, unbidden, and her lips quirked a little.   The prince had the same messy habit, which Ignis had no qualms about, until it had been discovered Noctis had been scribbling in the philosophical theses of the Caelum  _forefathers._

 _I AM CERTAIN IT WAS THE ‘ILLUSTRATED CONTENT’ THAT DREW IGNS’ IRE,_ Odin remembered, appalled. 

Lightning smiled. The coffees had been courtesy of the librarian, she remembered.  She had almost reached the door of their private space when Ignis’ voice: unnaturally loud and shrill, sliced through the silence, almost making her drop them. 

 _And just what the hell is this?_ The normally composed Ignis was red-faced, flashing a book in the prince’s face.  Lightning caught a glimpse of the picture as she passed, and Odin let out a growl.   

 _A TRILLION NERVES THE HUMAN BODY HAS,_ he muttered, while she carefully set the drinks down a bit further down the table outside the line of fire, _AND THIS BOY MANAGES TO GET ON EVERY, SINGLE, ONE OF THEM_.  _HIS PETULANCE KNOWS NO BOUNDS._

 _He is young,_ Lightning said, but in a teasing voice.  She returned to her place by the windows where she had been staring out at the city and tried to tune out the men behind her.  Memories of encountering the same frustrations with Hope filled her mind as she lost herself in the city's skyline once more.  

 _It’s a penis,_ Noctis explained pompously behind her.  _The male genital organ of higher vertebrates, carrying the duct for the transfer of sperm during copulation. Synonyms include, but are not limited to: pee-pee, cock, ding-dong, manhood…_

 _I mean what the hell is it doing_ here _._

_Having a better time than me I reckon._

_That’s for sure,_ Lightning thought, returning to the present.  She continued to skim through the papers, the humorous memory prompting her to read the tiny scribbles in the margins, and shaking her head at what she found.  

 

> ‘ _Fucking_ _outdated’_
> 
> _'Source???'_
> 
> _'Be specific'_
> 
> _'ffs'_

Prompto let out a snort as he dropped onto the couch beside her. “Messy, right?” 

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Heh, you should see his old man’s.  Way messier.”

Lightning frowned.  _Old man's?_ “Whose old man’s?”

Prompto looked at her oddly. “Uh… _Noct’s_.  Who else?” 

Something in Lightning's brain clicked.  She picked up one of the files and began perusing it.  _It_ is _his writing,_  she realized.How could she have missed it?She sat back a little and looked over the sea of paper, remembering the state of Noct's private study.   _First the fal-cie language and now this..._

 _WHY TAKE AN INTEREST IN OTHER PEOPLE’S MEDICAL HISTORY?_ Odin said before his presence stilled suddenly.    _UNLESS..._

 _Unless it’s related to all the 'studying' he’s been doing,_ Lightning thought. 

A red stamp with the word DECEASED in bold face had been used to fill in the ‘ _Status’_ field caught her eye, and a quick check of the others were found to be same. The tiniest seed of dread began to plant itself into her stomach. 

_‘Just a little extra reading.’_

_It could be nothing,_ she told herself.  _I saw it, Odin. You saw it.  _

_AYE,_ said Odin, but the unease she sensed from the eidolon flooded in and mixed with hers, made her sit up straighter.  Made her reach for the mini-cassette player Ignis had obviously been using before their arrival.  There was nothing to be heard but muffled voices and static, so she hit _EJECT_.  Immediately she wished she hadn’t. 

The pieces fit…and at the same time _didn’t._

Odin began to shift restlessly.  

 _I saw,_ Lightning insisted, feeling his anger beginning to stir.  You _saw.  We would have noticed, seen the signs.  There haven’t been signs, Odin—_

_WE ARE OVERREACTING, THEN?_

Lightning nodded woodenly.   _But even so..._

_'Like everything’s somehow colder...’_

She turned to Prompto, presently scrolling through his phone; completely unaware of how right he _might_ be.    _But I_ saw _._

“Prompto…” she began quietly.  

 _PERHAPS HE IS TRYING TO BE DILIGENT,_  Odin offered. _YOU SAID IT YOURSELF: HE HAS ALWAYS BEEN DETERMINED. WE SEARCH FOR SOMETHING THAT IS NOT THERE--_

_But must be searched for, nonetheless._

_YOU RISK OFFENDING THEM.  YOU GAVE REGIS YOUR WORD._

_I'll be discrete._

Ignis entered with the box from the dining room and started rummaging through it.  “How’d your talk with Regis go?”

“Well.” Lightning lied.  

“Mm-hmm.”  Ignis found the file he was looking for and set it aside.  He studied her for the longest time, blue-green eyes searching.  “Call me crazy,” he said finally, while Prompto yawned, “but it seems as if you have a more personal stake in the matter.”

It took everything she had not to crush the cassette in her hands.  “ _Everything_ concerning the lives of one’s family is ‘personal’,” Lightning said, knuckles turning white as memories in front of the pyre began to play over in her head. 

“Indeed.  And surely twenty years, by l’cie standards, can’t be long enough to forget a _Dissolvere_ of that magnitude.” 

“Twenty- _one_ ,” Lightning corrected stiffly.  “But that is a matter between l’cie and Tenebrae alone.  I'll keep my peace as long as the crystal remains off the table for discussion and negotiations of any nature.”

Ignis remained skeptical.  He met her gaze head on, unflinching.  “So it’s safe to assume that should Tenebrae do anything that compromises your mission…you’ll…”

“And I don’t care _who_ gets in my way,” Lightning finished, blue eyes glowing dangerously.  Odin grunted in approval.  She held up the cassette tape she’d found, certain she had figured out why he had asked her over.  

“My turn to ask the questions.”


	8. Violetta [In Memoriam]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One l'cie's choice leaves another devastated.

The sound of the afternoon rain pattering softly against the windows woke her up. Muted daylight filtered through the curtains and across the bed. She reached for him.  

The mattress on the other side was cold.  

 _I'm dreaming_ , she told herself, but the feeling of knowing, offorebodingwelled up inside, spread.  She sat up slowly, warily, her mind piecing it all together-as reluctant as she was to. The room was definitely his: miniature versions of the eidolons he'd whittled out of wood during stolen moments of reprieve in between battles long past, and books—that she had urged him to read; that he’d neglected to her constant irritation—on the shelves. Only her sword was in the middle of the hardwood floor…and onlyher clothes a messy heap on the ground next to it.

For a long time she stared, unblinking, trying to comprehend it.  Had none of it ever happened? Impossible, she had memories.  They flashed through her mind in a blur: their arguing about the Seeress' choice; the unexpected confession tumbling clumsily from her lips; his mouth hot and rough and desperate against her own, his breath intermingling with hers, their bodies pressing together, his scent....

Last night wasn't a dream.  She couldn't have dreamt last night; there was no way she could have been able to imagine something more perfect—her gaze travelled to the folded note on the bedside table (a note containing the two inevitably and incredibly ironic words: ‘I’m sorry’)—or heart-breaking. 

“No…” she whispered. 

Foreboding erupted into panic, spurring her into action.  She dressed as quickly as she could, not caring if her blouse was done up inside out, if her hair was disheveled; if her teeth needed brushing.  The fear at the forefront of her mind overruled all that.  Staggering out the door like an inert drunkard she half-ran, half-walked through the hallway, sword in one hand, his note in the other, calling-yelling- screaming  his name.   Eyes darting left and right anxiously.  

_I don’t believe it._

_I don’t believe it._

In the living area Seb heard hurried footsteps coming down the stairs.  Relief washed over him as he found the source, but guilt was quick on its heels as he took in the look on her face. What he had done, had involuntarily set in motion, could never be undone.  He rose from his seat, his eidolon's whisper resolute in his ear.  

YOU MADE YOUR CHOICE; _ONE_ OR THE OTHER.  

"Violetta..."

She drifted to an unsteady halt, gripping the bottom bannister, the light in her eyes fading into a lifeless dark blue as she processed the meaning of his visit.  She stumbled as she reached the bottom step.  He made to reach for her, to comfort her, but she shook her head. Feeling his heart sink into his stomach he kept his distance.  

"Violetta-"

“No.”  She shook her head again, covering her ears when he tried to explain. 

“Vi—”

“ _No_.”   _If he was here, it could only mean…_

Seb shook his head, his expression remorseful.   Her knees buckled beneath her and he caught her as her world crumbling beneath her feet.  The cold reality began to slip through the cracks and try as she might, she could not block it out. _It can’t be…_

"Violetta..." Seb took care to be as gentle as he could.  He tried to make her look at him, to make her see reason, but she flinched away. The knot in his throat tightened, making his words an uncharacteristic rasp.  “It was his choice.”  

“No, I don’t believe you.” She shoved him away weakly.  “There’s no way he..." as soon as the thought entered her mind the frail hope that she had been desperately clinging to vanished from her  grasp.  She collapsed to the ground on all fours.  "He can't be...he didn’t want..." she couldn't even bring herself to say the words, let alone breathe as her ribs tightened over her heart.   It was just too hard to believe.  He was with her just  _hours_ ago.  She bowed her head, and the tears began to fall.

How could he just…

_You promised._

“Violetta…”

 The words she spoke next pierced him right through; would haunt him in the days—years—to come: 

"It should have been  me.” 


	9. Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Focus is not as black and white as it seems.
> 
> An ultimate choice for the ultimate price.

“I’ll do it.”

The entire fraternity turned like a flock of birds, all at once.  It was dead silence in the temple, but the corresponding emotion Fang could feel was cacophonous in her head. Horror, shock, accusation and relief all at once came spearing through her consciousness, the pain precise, like a needle through her eye.

If she didn’t feel Vanille’s warm and steady hand slide into her own; even with the power and unrelenting will of Bahamut Fang would have been brought to one knee. Unlike the others Vanille's presence in her mind was a cool healing balm; an anchor of sanity in the chaotic vortex.  As Fang focused on the gentle timbre of her voice, the clutter in her head begin to clear until it was nothing but static in the background.  

 _You don't have to do this_.

 _I know,_ Fang squeezed her hand.   _But no one else will._

 _That doesn't mean that_ you _have to._

I _know_ that _, too._  Fang smiled, reaching over and ruffling her hair affectionately.   _But it still needs to be done and I'm sick of these idiots arguing._

Hope was the first to recover.  He stood in front of the Seeress, blocking her view.  "Seeress-"

Gae Bolg materialized in Fang's hand.  “Unless you plan on undertaking the task yourself,” she said, “you’re going to have to go through me."

"I'm not going to fight you, Fang."

"It's the only way you're going to stop me."

Hope turned to the Seeress again, the pain in his voice threatening to unravel Fang's resolve.  

“She's our  _sister_ —”

“ _She_ ," Fang cut in witheringly, "is on her way to breaking the promise we made to Etro, to the  _world._ " She looked at all present, waiting for someone to say otherwise.  “And while we sit here wasting oxygen, she gets closer and closer to Tenebrae."

“She hasn’t  _done_  anything-"

“Do you wish to take Fang’s place, Hope?” Yeul asked gently, green eyes probing. 

“She’s  _one of us! "_  Hope exclaimed, wildly gesturing at his fellow l'Cie.  "And her motives are  _justified._ When's the last time  _any_  of you heard his lame jokes; his annoying voice, for that matter?  The Tenebraen crystal as well:  when's the last time any of you have been able to sense it?"

None answered.  

"It isn't desertion to seek the truth.  If anything, we should be  _helping her._ ” He glanced at Lightning.  "What if it was Serah in his place?  You’d do the same wouldn’t you?” 

The Odin l’Cie looked Fang dead in the eye instead.  "I'll be your second."

"You're lying!" 

Lightning's eyes narrowed, and began to glow ominously.  Those standing closest to her began to shuffle away out of instinct.

"Hope," Snow warned, a hand on his shoulder.  

Lightning and Odin’s voice came out in tandem, ruthless and terrifying enough to send shivers down Fang's spine.  "If tearing out her crystal ourselves is the only thing that'll penetrate that thick skull of yours;  _so be it._ "  

Hope stared at her, crushed.  

 _The bitch didn't even flinch_ , Fang observed, both appalled and impressed at the same time.  

Hope shrugged off Snow's hand.

"You guys can't really be  _okay_  with this,  _can you_?" A few shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, and he seized on the momentum.   _Just as annoyingly resilient as the eidolon within_ , Fang thought absently.  Alexander had chosen well.  "She is one of  _us_.  If she really was a threat to the Focus, she would have become a cieth already, right?"

"It's not that simple," Caius interjected calmly from his place beside Yeul.  "She was the one who figured out how cieth stasis happens in the first place."

"Not only that, she was also first and foremost, a healer," Snow agreed reluctantly.  "Who's to say she hasn't found a way to keep it at bay or even _cure_ it?" 

"What about you," Lightning said, to the man standing off to the side, away from the epicenter of the conflict.  The only one who had yet to contribute and choose a side.  The one whose words always seemed to carry the greatest weight amongst her brothers and sisters.  "Why haven't  _you_  said anything?" 

 _Why indeed,_ Fang wondered.  

All heads turned to Raines.  It wasn't until the Seeress prompted him that he finally decided to speak:

“The path you’re suggesting we take would only mean that we seek to perpetuate the cycle of tyranny; that we are no better than Bhunivelze himself.  Don’t forget that we were once human too, and that it was humanity’s freedom that we fought for in the first place.  We can't take back the crystal simply because it's 'inconvenient' for us."

“But to let them just… _do_  what they want—”

“As awed as they are about our existence, humanity also fears us.  If we were to intervene...despite it being in their best interests, our actions would only serve to justify their skepticisms. Humans are as unpredictable as we are powerful.  To encourage a culture of fear would be careless on our part.  Never underestimate the survival instinct.  It's what brought us here in the first place."

“But she  _saw_ —”

“She saw what she  _wanted to see_ ," Raines said, "an excuse to justify her wrath.  She is lost to us.”

"But-"

“This is the most we can do without affecting  the paradox,” said Yeul. 

“So we’re all going to just  _sit here_  and let Fang…” Vanille caught him as he staggered backward.   Gently she lowered him to the ground.  He hugged his knees, burying his face in them. “We’ve already sacrificed so much for the Focus, Vani…and now we’re killing our  _own_?"  

Vanille drew him into a hug, rubbing his back soothingly.  "Sometimes, in order to save someone, you have to save them from themselves,"  she said.  "You don't want her to become a  _cieth_ ,  do you?"

"So we kill her  _before_  it happens?  How is that saving her?"

"Hope-"

"We're  _family_ , Vani.  Family  _doesn't do that_  to each other." He glared up at Fang.  "Family  _doesn’t give up_ on each other." 

***

_'Family doesn't give up on each other.'_

Those words were still echoing in Fang's head, making sleep almost impossible days later until she finally buried her pride and faced Hope again. Vanille was the one who had insisted.  Fang raised her hand to knock, but turned at the last minute.  

" _For fuck's sake_ -"

 _"_ It's the only way the two of you will get closure,"  Vanille said.  "This may be the last time you'll see each other."   She nodded back to the door and waited.  

" _Whatever_."  As much as Fang doubted it would achieve that effect, this  _was_  the only way of getting Vanille off her back.  She rapped up a storm against the wood, and was rewarded with a sharp elbow to the ribs.  "What was  _that_  for?"

"She joined the same time he did," Vanille scolded, nose crinkling slightly.  She rarely got angry, Fang knew, so she decided to take it as a warning sign. "Don't be so insensitive," Fang heard her say, "that kind of bond can't easily be erased.  And also..."

"Also _what_?" Fang grumbled.   _I could be in the sky at this very moment, enjoying the sunlight above the clouds..._   

"Hope was chosen," Vanille whispered.

Fang turned fully toward her, incredulous.  "You're joking."

" _Well_ ," Vanille hummed thoughtfully, touching a finger to her lip, "' _volunteered_ ', to be precise."

Fang snorted at this.  Collectively the l'Cie held prejudices against the human race, many of which stemmed from deep-seated feelings of resentment from Bhunivelze's time.  Hope most of all, having witnessed the murder of his entire family by humans after they'd refused to turn him in to the Maker. 

"L'Cie don't 'volunteer' Vani."

"Well _he_ did," Vanille insisted. " _And_ _Yeul accepted_."

Fang doubted it was out of blind faith, but it was still worth asking.  What was the use of foresight if the very people meant to benefit from it weren't in on the plan?  " _Why_?"  

Vanille shrugged. "She's the Seeress."

"Hmph.  A bit dramatic of him, don't you think?" Fang remarked.  "Vi runs off to do _Etro knows what_ to the city so he offers himself up to the altar.  Like that's going to make up for the mess she's made."

"Just...go easy on him, okay?"

" _Fine_." Fang knocked properly this time, wondering what the hell she could say to sound sincere, but when the door finally opened, the words came to her.  

Hope meanwhile, looked from Vanille to her, expression wary.  "You here to kill me?" 

"Don't be daft," Fang snapped, foiling Vanille's attempts to elbow her again.  

"Then...what?"  

Fang exhaled sharply.  "Look: I know Vi and I never saw eye to eye, but I’m not doing this to be cruel.  I, better than anyone know exactly what she's going through."

"I find that hard to believe," said Hope reproachfully.  

Actions often succeeded where words didn't, so Fang held out her palm.  The lemniscate shaped brand began to reveal itself, and the boy's eyes widened in wonder.  She smiled a little.  

"The secondary Mark _..."_ he breathed.  Eagerly he reached out, but stopped.  He looked at her tentatively. "May I?"

"I'm holding it out to you, aren't I?"

Hope's fingers fluttered nervously against her skin, tracing the brand until Fang covered his hand with hers.  

"How does it feel?" 

"Like my brand but...warmer.  But... _who_?" 

"Do you really need to ask?" Fang chuckled.  

On cue, Vanille stepped forward and held out her own hand. _A perfect mirror,_ Fang thought.  

"Wow...I didn't think it was possible..."

Fang rested her hand on the boy's shoulder.  "Vi had the mark as well."

"She didn't tell us, but we knew instantly," Vanille added regretfully, her shoulders slumping .  "One of the perks that comes from having the _promittere_ , I guess.  But there definitely are... _downsides_."

"Downsides?" Hope didn't look too happy to hear it.

"Long story short," Fang said, "if it were Vani out there, I’d tear the heavens apart to save her, too.  The only one who'd be able to change my mind would be Vani herself, and even then..." she looked at Vanille reluctantly:

"I honestly don't know if I'd be able to stop myself in time."

***

Hope left the very next day, and after he did, so too did a little of the weight on Fang's chest.  

Vanille had been right...to a degree.  The task ahead still wasn't going to be any easier. Dawn was just beginning to break in Bodhum when she closed the door of her and Vanille's cottage behind her.  The dragon was waiting with her wings spread, ready. But even after Fang had mounted, she did not move.

_WHAT ABOUT THEM?_

_Them_?

Bahamut nodded back to the porch bench where Lightning was sitting.   _Hate it when she does that_ , Fang thought.  

Lightning was the only l'Cie who kept her thoughts and emotions hidden, making her almost invisible among their peers.  The only way one could tell if she were present, was if one physically saw or heard her speak; and even _that_ was asking too much because the only company the woman seemed to prefer was her own.  

Fang slid down and leaned against Bahamut's belly, crossing her arms.   "It wouldn't hurt to let people in every once in a while, lovey.  Ever heard of the term: ' _sharing is caring'_?"

"We share a Focus," Lightning answered. "That's enough for me."

 _Whatever you say,_ Fang thought.  Neither said a word the whole flight, but after a while, the silence and the growing distance she was registering from being away from Vanille started to get to her. “I can take her with my eyes closed,” she said, when they finally crossed into Tenebrae territory and watched a flock of wyverns glide past in a kaleidoscope of color.  She let out a chuckle.  “But I can’t guarantee it’ll be much of a show.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about.”  Lightning pointed to the ground, and Fang’s eyes nearly popped out of her sockets. 

 “ _That little shit._ " 

Alexander was marching on Tenebrae. 


	10. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raines contemplates his demons.

The dreams, when and _if_ he was lucky enough to have them—for they helped him forget—never stayed dreams for long.

Deep in sleep the acrid smell of burning flesh and sulphur would flood his subconsciousness and then he would see Lightning running as fast as she could through the burning village—but never quite fast enough.  Death was imminent; was coming for her; _would be guaranteed_ by his inaction.  The Odin l'Cie was injured, horribly outnumbered and exhausted to the point where she couldn’t summon her own sword.  The creatures would catch up; they _always_ caught up with her.  As her back hit the wall, they slowed, and eventually stilled.  Waiting.

The night air, despite the heat of the flames, suddenly turned cold.  Raines watched the cieth part like a curtain: shuffling dumbly to the side, heads bowed slightly as if in deference.  The Thing that was their leader stepped out in front of the horde. Its movements were sinuous and fluid, much like a snake.  Unlike the others whose bodies looked like jagged rock glued clumsily together with too-large arms that dragged on the ground at their sides, the Thing’s physiology was something he would have been almost tempted to find beautiful.  Its form was like smooth and polished marble, its limbs more proportionately human—a living, breathing sculpture.

In seconds it was right in front of her.  It stretched out its arms.  The eidolon inside shifted impatiently. 

_I can’t._

_EITHER YOU MOVE, OR **I** WILL, _ Gilgamesh snarled, and _this_ time; the l’Cie knew he would make good on its promise.  A battle began to rage in his mind; invisible ropes wrapping around his arms and legs, jerking hard.  He fought it with all of his strength. This was the part he hated the most.

_Please.  Don’t do this._

_COWARD!_

Lightning’s scream pierced through the night, breaking his concentration.  That was all the opening the eidolon needed. 

Before he’d even realized it he was moving: sword raised high over his head, aiming to impale the Thing from behind—

***

Raines came awake in a cold sweat: breathing hard, sword brandished, eyes darting everywhere for the invisible enemy. 

His gaze eventually settled on the clock on his bedside table, and he remembered where he was;  _when_ he was.  _7:22 am._    His breathing steadied.  

From the desk on the other side of the room where he’d been reading a lewd magazine Raines was _certain_ he’d never buy—not even while drunk out of his mind—Gilgamesh let out a chuckle.  He didn’t look too engrossed in what he was reading however; clinically flipping through as though resigned to the task. 

“You’re getting better,” he said.

Raines leaned against the headboard.  Contemplating.  “I wonder if that’s true,” he said, but so quietly he wondered if he'd imagined saying it. 

The eidolon shrugged, the plates of his armour making a soft clinking sound as metal slid against metal. Raines idly wondered how he'd look in civilian clothing—he had suggested it countless times given the latter's keen interest in human technology.    _It would also be nice not hearing his annoying voice in my head for once_. 

Gilgamesh ignored the insult.  “You didn’t scream this time,” he said. He tossed away the magazine and stood, going for the decanter of whiskey sitting on the dressing table.  He poured a generous amount over some ice, and came over to the bed.  “Here.”

Raines reached out, but only to push the glass away.  Gilgamesh let out a low whistle.  He took the glass into the bathroom.  Moments later the sound of running water filled his apartment.

“You really are getting better,” the eidolon called.  He came out of the bathroom, and sat at the foot of the bed.  “Good," he said.  "The Seeress has a task for us.”

There was a smile on his face, but not the kind any sane person would take at face value. It was the smile of someone with a secret.  Only with Gilgamesh it never retained that status for long; and the _only_ secrets the eidolon seemed to thrive off were the ones that made Raines squirm in his own skin. He stared at his hands, eyes lingering on the mark he'd been so naively proudly of—once upon a time.  

 _Three times you will have your heart broken._   “What kind of task?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the present timeline, in case people are wondering. And not literally right after Chapter 4, in case you're wondering that as well.  
> The Marks: In addition to the brand l'Cie have from FFXIII you'll noticed I've introduced a second type of brand, called the promittere (latin for promise). If the bond is strong enough, it manifests. Side effects you've seen is a heightened awareness that parties have of each other i.e. Fang feeling Vanille's absence and becoming restless because of it, and a shift in their priorities: Fang unsure if she'd be able to put the Focus before Vanille. Violetta had the mark too, so Fang's able to feel empathy for the former because she knows what Vi's going through.  
> Finally, the secondary mark looks like a lemniscate--the infinity symbol.


	11. Intelligent Design

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second interview between 'William' and Professor Julian.  
> Completely off the record.

_11:58 PM_. 

The woman rolled her sleeve back over her watch and sat back in her seat, fingers gripping the leather arm rests as she fought the urge to start pacing back and forth.  But then it came: the knock on the door, _finally_.  If she hadn’t been waiting for it, she would have been tempted to think she was dreaming.  She stood as it opened and the l’Cie poked his head in, grey eyes that seemed much too wise for his youthful appearance scanning the room before he saw her. 

“You wanted to see me, professor.”

She gestured to the chair across from her desk. “I apologize for the late hour,” she said as they both sat.  In front of her was a thick ringbinder along with a tray of plunger coffee and biscuits.  She reached for the coffee and began pouring; the bitter aroma helping to sharpen her senses somewhat.

“Milk and sugar?”

“Still standing on ceremony, I see,” the l'Cie's tone held a hint of teasing and flirtation.  “I thought we’d established that we were on a first name basis, _Julian_.”

She looked at him cynically.  “We would; _if_ one of us had decided not to operate under an alias.”  _And impersonate a student in my class._ She still hadn't quite forgiven him for that.

He chuckled.  “Professor it is.”

“There is something I wanted to ask you.” Julian said while he took the steaming mug from her. 

“Something you couldn’t ask in front of your colleagues, I gather.” 

 _As perceptive as ever._ “It’s a very paranoid age we live in,” Julian admitted, hesitant.  “I myself wondered if I should even be _asking_ in the first place…with all that’s happened with the most recent _Dissolvere_ …the riots in Niflheim: a ‘mass hysteria’ they’re calling it, but who can really trust the things coming out of that country these days…” she paused and stared into her cup. “You know what’s really going on, don’t you?  You know what’s coming.”

“It’s not something ‘that’s been coming’; it’s something that _has always been_ , since the Fall.”

“But you can’t tell me, can you.”

“I can’t.” He held up his right hand; the one he’d always kept hidden beneath a glove; facing the back toward her.  “But I would if I could,” he said softly, setting it back into his lap.

“What if I ask the right questions?” Julian opened the ring binder and slid it toward him.  The l'Cie tensed but remained silent.  “Without specifically mentioning Niflheim,” she pressed.  “Would you be willing to try?”

He closed the folder and slid it back to her.  “I think the more important question is how many people are willing to believe you, once those questions are answered.  And _how_ _many_ ,” he added solemnly, meeting her eyes, “are going to try silence you before that happens.”

Julian's grip tightened over her cup, focusing on its heat to keep from shivering.  “I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

William nodded in grim acceptance and lifted his cup to his lips.  “Then ask away, professor.”

Julian pulled out the recorder from her pocket and switched it on.  “The crystals,” she began, proceeding with trepidation in spite of the warmth and reassurance in his eyes.  “They’re alive, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” answered the l'cie, but as Julian had been expecting:

He did not look too happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the past, around the time of the Dissolvere of Tenebrae.  
> 'William' is Raines, if you picked up on that in this chapter.


	12. 5. Amor caecus est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle lines can be drawn where one would never expect them to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It won't matter to the plot, but Gilgamesh's human appearance and characterization is based on the same character from Fate Zero. His eidolon form remains the same as in XIII-2...

**Chapter 5:** **  
Love is Blind**

* * *

John’s replacement was a six foot one slip of a man.  

His name was Noel, and despite being able to see over the top of her head, under the l'cie's gaze he sweat buckets.  Lightning wondered what gross exaggerations his superiors had been telling him.  When John started there’d been many myths she’d been happy to debunk; at the same time leaving others to the imagination.  From the way Noel's eyes were glued to her forehead—or more accurately, anywhere that didn’t involve looking her directly in the eye while he answered her question, Lightning was certain he’d heard all the ‘bad’ first. 

“Erm—John’s been under the weather for the past couple of weeks.  I was assigned by Prince Noctis himself to guard the crys—” Lightning’s eyes narrowed and he quickly corrected himself “—this room, I mean.  Guarding the crystal is your job, isn’t it?” He finished tentatively, expression filled with remorse at the blunder, but it still managed to strike a very unpleasant chord with the l’Cie. 

“Just open the door,” Lightning said, attempting to sound as non-life-threatening as possible. 

“I’m sorry I'm so nervous, as you can tell,” Noel’s hands shook as he punched in the access code, continuing to babble while Lightning eyed the flame-shaped sword sheathed on his back; the smaller gladius on his belt.  She hoped his clumsiness wasn’t reflective of his prowess on the battlefield. 

 _Only one way to be certain_ , Odin hinted.

He could sense a smile on Lightning’s lips.  _I’D ANNHILIATE HIM._

_John held his own quite well in the sparring circle, too.  Almost drew blood, if I recall correctly._

_I MEANT I HAVEN’T DRUNK THE ELIXIR,_ Lightning said.  _HAVEN’T HAD THE NEED TO—SEEING AS HE AVOIDS ME LIKE AN INCURABLE DISEASE._

 _REALLY,_ _WAS IT SO WRONG FOR ME TO TALK TO HIS FATHER?  ALL I NEEDED WERE ANSWERS—THE TRUTH.   THE WORST IS THAT I HAD A FEELING ALL ALONG AND I CHOSE TO IGNORE IT.  I DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND WHY I DID THAT, WHY I CONTINUE TRYING TO..._ _  
_

_…ODIN?_ She said softly, for he had long gone silent. 

The insecurity she felt had triggered an instant feeling of protectiveness inside the eidolon.  If given the chance, Odin knew he would beat the boy bloody for his frivolous treatment of her or _perhaps_ , in Lightning’s case; reluctantly indulge in a  less-intimidating alternative of reminding him,  _all of them_ , that they had slain gods-the Maker Bhunivelze himself. 

 _I did wonder how your voice had gotten to be so much clearer,_ he said, deciding to steer away from the topic instead.  

_HOW DO YOU MEAN?_

_You are so adept at locking out your siblings I assumed—_

_NO_. Lightning told him firmly.  By her tone Odin felt as if she were reaching over and physically shaking sense into him. _I’D NEVER DO THAT TO YOU._

_I know—_

_NEVER YOU._ It was a promise. 

_And I understand..._

_BUT THE THOUGHT HAS CROSSED YOUR MIND…HASN’T IT?_

_Many times_ , Odin admitted quietly, _as of late_. He felt her hurt spill into him then, and as much as he wanted to take back the words, it was the truth.  Painful as it was to admit to her, she deserved nothing less. 

He just hoped it wasn’t a prelude to what lay ahead.

***

In the outer chamber beneath the Lucis palace, Noel’s incessant blather bounced off against the steel walls, every lengthy echo fraying the little strands of patience Lightning was amazed she still had. 

“I never thought I’d get the honour to meet one of Etro’s l’Cie,” he was saying, hands still shaking. “I just wanted to say that we’re truly blessed to have you and your sisters and brothers and—shit.”

He’d entered the incorrect code—again.  Lightning contemplated strangling him.

 _YOUR QUARREL IS NOT WITH HIM_ , Odin reminded, but she caught a hint of humour in his tone

Lightning looked directly at the security cameras, incredibly unimpressed.  The alarm should have gone off at the first instance of an input error, but given that Noel was new, those monitoring the feeds were being more lenient.  An attempt to ease him into what was quite possibly the most boring job in the country, probably.  John hadn't complained, but that was because he was grateful:  the man was much more advanced in years and had a family to provide for.   Any job that kept him away from the battlefield, that guaranteed an increase in life expectancy was a blessing.  

“I’m sorry,” Noel wiped his forehead with the back of his hand—a wasted effort, Lightning thought, seeing fresh new beads of perspiration forming.  He took a deep breath, brows knit in concentration.  “I’ll get it right this time.  I just can’t believe he chose me, you know?”

 _“Noel.”_ Lightning managed to say without the word coming through her teeth in a hiss.  “If you can’t get this door open, no one in the security detail will _at all_.”

“Right.  Wouldn’t want the place to go into lockdown, huh?” He started again.

“Yeah.” Lightning said, clipped.  She didn’t bother to turn her back this time.

The doors slid open, at last.  Taking a deep breath the l’Cie gently, but very firmly took Noel by the upper arms and moved him aside. 

“Um actually,” he began, just as she prepared to take another step, “I have to come in with you…” he trailed off, shrinking back from the l’Cie’s withering stare.  “Protocol?"

Lightning contemplated it, then turned and continued on anyway, as if she hadn’t heard. 

Noel thrust his hand forward.  "Hey-"

Lightning pivoted, catching his fingers and twisting them until he winced, going down on one knee in pain.  And then she twisted some more.

“I'm under orders not to let you go in alone!” Noel managed to yell through the pain.  

Lightning let go.  Orders?  " _Whose_ orders?"

"Prince Noctis.   It's just a precaution,” he added carefully.  As if a switch had suddenly been thrown, the nervousness in the young man had disappeared, replaced instead by a wariness. 

But of what; _her_?   

 _ **I’m** the l’cie, not you_ , Lightning wanted to snarl. If anyone should be deciding on precautions it was her.  Instead she nodded.  “Do what you want.”

“I don’t mean to get in your way,” he continued apologetically as he followed her—this time a safe distance away.  “Really.  It’s just…one never questions the authority of a King or future King.  I know John always let you in on your own and I would never presume t—”

Lightning stopped.  “ _Noel_."

He barely managed to stop himself from colliding into her.  "Yeah?"

"It's fine. I  _understand_.” She started walking again.  

“Still; I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I’m _not uncomfortable_.”  Just really pissed off. “And there’s nothing to be sorry about,” Lightning added, as the two of them were suddenly bathed in the crystal’s healthy blue glow. “You’re just doing what you’re told.”

“Yeah.”

A pity she wasn’t here for the same reason. "Are you religious, Noel? "

"Yup," he answered with a smile.  “Why?”  The smile vanished as he watched her pull off a glove.  “What are you doing?"

Lightning's mouth was a grim line. 

***

 _Ignis steepled his fingers and rested his chin atop of them._ _“_ _He told me he was being cautious,_ _”_ _he said, as if trying to come to terms with that statement._ _“_ _Told me that it was necessary for him to know; to learn as much as he could about l_ _’_ _Cie, about cie_ _’_ _th.  The tapes_ _he wouldn_ _’_ _t say where he got them, only that he needed aid in their restoration.  I helped as I usually did, as I_ always _do._ _”_ _He paused and looked at Lightning._ _“_ _I didn_ _’_ _t think much of it at the time, too immersed with my own investigations of a different matter.  I never anticipated that it would be connected_ _…_ _but once I started listening to the tape; started delving into Nabaat_ _’_ _s research myself._ _…_ God _…”_

 _“_ _Umm buddy?_ _”_ _Prompto interrupted._ _“_ _You okay?  You_ _’_ _re not making sense_ _._ _”_

 _“_ _I_ _’_ _m sorry._ _”_ _But Ignis was looking at her only as he said it, green eyes that were usually clear and confident now clouded._ _“_ _I feel like this was my fault.  I_ _wasted too much time trying to get my head around it, trying to disprove what I've found;_ wondering _if I_ _’_ _m really the person you need to hear it from.  Wondering where my loyalties should lie._ _”_

 _And Lightning realized._ _“_ _You know what he_ _’_ _s up to."_

_"It's just a theory.  I could be wrong. "_

_Lightning was leaning forward from the edge of her seat anyway.  "_ _Tell me._ _”_

 _"_ I could be wrong _."  Ignis stared at his hands._ _“_ _And for the sake of Lucis. ..I_ hope _I am."_

_Lightning wrapped  her arms around herself .  To stop them from shaking. To keep from bolting out the door.  She knew deep down a tiny part of herself had already formed a conclusion in her own mind; a hypothesis that could never be rejected because of its sheer inevitability._

_Delayed only by time._

_"_ Tell me _."_

***

Just a single touch, was all Lightning needed.  A quick swipe and it would all be over. 

"That burn mark on your hand, " Noel spoke up behind her, tone wary.   "That’s not the l'Cie brand."

"You sound so sure."

"I've seen what it's meant to look like.  Definitely nothing like that."

Lightning smiled ruefully.  "You really are religious."

_‘Only with Noctis' explicit consent can anyone else be allowed to command the l'Cie to do anything. It's pretty important, especially where the crystal is concerned.’_

"It's the _Commandare_ , isn’t it?"

"Yes." _And I wasn't  allowed to step foot in Lucis without it_ , Lightning did not say aloud.  _Still think precautions need to be taken?_

"Goddess...but I thought..." Noel's tone was remorseful. Horrified. "Did it hurt?"

Lightning laughed in spite of herself.  Her eyes surveyed the crystal in front of her, studying her reflection in the facets, the dark circles under her eyes. She looked as tired as she felt. 

"What's so funny?"

"No one's ever asked me that."

Closing her eyes, Lightning took the plunge.  Noel realizing, let out a cry of protest before falling onto his knees and bowing his head, palms flat and spread across the cold floor.  The l’Cie’s sacrifice was a sacred act; only meant to be witnessed by the eyes of its Steward, and no one else.  Lightning was blithely aware of the quiet prayers he was now uttering under his breath as he sought Etro's forgiveness for the transgression--she was more focused on the crystal. A half-second before her fingers skimmed against its surface she had braced herself for the inevitable pain that came when a l’Cie’s and eidolons life forces were ripped from their body to save it. 

She felt nothing.

Lightning opened her eyes slowly and frowned, pressing her hand harder against the crystal.  It felt like cool glass beneath her fingertips; exactly as a crystal should feel like. _Only_ …

_A FAKE._

From behind her, Noel tentatively raised his head. “Is it over?”

 _“Far from it._ ” L’cie and eidolon answered together.  Pulling her glove back over her hand, the l’cie turned and stormed out of the chamber, cold fury etched into her features.  Tiny sparks of electricity trailed every step she took. 

_"It's only just begun."_

***  

 _"I know all of this started with that meeting.  The one that ended with Noctis storming out in the middle of it._ _”_

 _“_ _You were there too,_ _”_ _Lightning remembered._ _“_ _What was it about?_ _”_ _Why hadn't_ _she even thought to ask him?_

 _“_ _Back then I honestly would have said_ _‘_ _nothing'.   I_ _t seemed like  the same speech Noct has had to listen to all his life: that he had a duty to his people; that it was time he started considering the future of Lucis. Noct as always, sent back the usual sarcastic response and began to excuse himself,_ _”_ _Lightning sighed at this_ _“_ _but just as he prepared to leave, all of the Councilmen stood.  With Regis_ '  _hand on Noct's_ _shoulder holding him in place, they spoke to him.  Actually, it was more of a chant."_

 _Prompto shuffled closer._ _“_ _What did they say?_ _”_

 _“_ _Nothing I could ever hope to translate_ _—_ _it wasn't_ _in any language I've_ _ever studied.  Noct too, for that matter, but the strangest thing was; he understood.  I asked about it later_ _—_ _he told me it was nothing._ _‘_ _Just the same old shit, different toilet._ _’”_

 _“_ _Nice analogy,_ _”_ _Prompto smiled._

 _“_ _If only._ _”_ _Ignis took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose._ _“_ _Everything in my gut told me to press him for answers and I didn't_ _._ _”_ _He tossed his glasses with little care onto the table and held his head in his hands, fingers raking hard through his scalp._

 _“_ _Iggy?_ _”_

 _“_ _I should have pressed him for answers, Prom.  I_ should _have.  But seeing the state he was in I_ _…_ _if I hadn't_ _heard that same phrase in the recording I never would have thought_ _—”_

 _"The language of the fal-cie,_ _”_ _Lightning said, feeling her heart sink into her stomach._ _“_ _It was about the crystal._ _”_

 _“_ _Yes._ _”_

_Prompto muttered a curse under his breath._

‘ I'd just like to be alone right now, okay? This is … it's my burden to bear. ’

 _“_ _It would explain Tenebrae, wouldn't_ _it,_ _”_ _Prompto added thoughtfully, looking at her and Ignis._ _“_ _I mean; if the meeting really was about the crystal_ _…_ _do you think that's_ _why Noct's_ _playing nice?_ _”_

 _“_ _No, that doesn't_ _add up._ _”_     _I_ _gnis said. "No matter how technologically advanced they  might be, what could Tenebrae or anyone offer to the only country in the world in possession of a crystal?_ _”_

 _“_ That _," said Prompto,"is exactly my point."_

 _‘_ Dad, how could you even think to make me?  You of all people.’  _“_

 _Noctis_ _’isn't_ _that kind of a person,_ _”_ _Lightning said._ _“_ _He wouldn't_ _sink that low._ _”_  

 _“_ _He's_ _changed, guys.  I might be the only one who's_ _noticed because I've_ _been away for so long,_ _”_ _Prompto said._

 _“_   _H_ _e wouldn't_ _._ _”_ _Lightning insisted._

 _“_ _And he hasn_ _’_ _t,_ _”_ _Ignis agreed, also openly glaring at Prompto now._ _“_ _He takes her to dinner at The Palamecia_ _—_ _his favourite.  He buys her coffee_ _—_ _warps all the way to Tenebrae to deliver it personally to her; sometimes even with flowers.   Orchids are her favourite:_ _he knows because he_ _’_ _s good friends with Luna, her younger sister.  Along with the entire household staff of House Tenebrae.   He_ _’_ _s actively making an effort to get to know her, even enduring the things he hates: charity balls, public addresses, voluntary work_ _—_ _because they_ _’_ _re things_ she’s _passionate about.  He's grown up, Prompto.  Perhaps you should do so too._ _”_

 _“_ What. Ever. _I'm curious to see what the l'Cie thinks of her.  How about it_ _Light?"_

 _“_ _I've_ _only met her once._ _”_ _Lightning answered.  It was all she trusted herself to say._

 _“_ _Just last week he led her on a tour of the Lucis National Museum_ _—_ _the one place we all know Noct is biologically programmed if not guaranteed to fall asleep in.  She also spars with him from time to time,_ _”_ _Ignis added, as an afterthought._

_Prompto laughed._

_“_ _Gladiolus told me himself.  He's_ _on the security detail._ _”_

 _“Speaking of," Prompto said, "do_ _es Gladio know what he's_ _been up to?  Did you know Noct_  's _changed the locks to his bedroom and office?  I haven't_ _had to climb the side of a building since the Academy and let me tell ya: not pleasant._ _”_

 _“_ _Even if he knew anything, there's_ _not much he's_ _at liberty to say.  The Amicitia-Caelum covenant is quite_ _…_ literal _in that aspect; similar to the Commandare.  Besides that; what are you even doing anyway, scaling the side of the palace? You could have been shot!_ _”_

She spars with him _, Lightning snorted._

 _“_ _A rapier,_ _”_ _Ignis said, and as both men turned to her, Prompto smirking, the l'cie's ears grew hot, embarrassed she'd_ _spoken aloud._

 _“_ _Aristocrat's_ _weapon,"_   _Prompto remarked.  "She any good?"_

 _"_ Very _.  A testament to her refined upbringing, no doubt.  Their whole courtship_ _—”_

 _“—_ _who the fuck says_ _‘_ _courtship_ _’_ _these days,_ _”_ _Prompto snickered._

 _“—_ _is quite endearing, actually,_ _”_ _Ignis said, ignoring him._ _“_ _Usually all it takes is his name, and title_ _…_ _"_

 _“_ _It_  's _because they're on_ _equal terms,_ _”_ _Lightning said, hating the fresh onslaught of resentment building inside.  "Let's hear this theory of yours."_

***

“Ma’am?” The young woman whose arm was presently locked in Lightning’s vice-like grip was on the verge of tears.   “I-I was just going to ask if you wanted another drink,” she stammered. 

Lightning immediately let go as if burned. “I’ll go.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and slid all the gil she was carrying across the counter before turning. 

The sights, smells, and blaring _noise_ of the nightclub finally registered, and the effect was almost dizzying.  Who were all these people?  How distracted had she been to have strayed here—wherever ‘ _here_ _’_ was— instead of straight home, as planned?  She hadn’t taken two steps toward the door when the way to it was suddenly barred. 

The boy in front of her was much too young to be allowed to frequent a place like this, wide eyes lucid and boring right through her.   His clothes were slightly tattered, but given the suburbs of Concelare were a thriving cesspit for poverty and crime, she thought nothing of it.   Until he spoke.

“ _L_ _’c_ _ie,_ ” he said—hissed more like it—and in a tone that held the promise of physical violence. He raised a hand, leveling a finger right at her chest.  Overhead the bouncing neon lights of the club scanned over the two of them, and Lightning froze.  All along the boy’s neck and disappearing below the collar, his skin was covered in sharp, stony protrusions. 

A cie'th in the middle of transition. 

Lightning dropped her guard, rooted to where she stood in shock.  “ _Impossible_ ,” she whispered as he began stalking toward her.  _Already that far along?_  The appearance of cie'th was a defense mechanism triggered by the crystal as a means of self-preservation from overuse: subverting a human's mind, turning it into a hapless servant whose only purpose was to protect it; to infect others while it sought out a more powerful lifeforce to compensate for its own. 

A lifeforce like the one right in front of it.

The boy lunged. 

A hand clamped down hard on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Even through the blaring music, Lightning heard the eidolon's voice as clear as if the room had been cleared of its occupants. “I don’t think so.” 

His hand flexed.  In the next instant the cie'th was suddenly airborne, landing upside-down against the nearest wall.   Those closest to the scene when it happened stood dumbfounded, until a bouncer appeared to escort him out.  After that, the dancing in the club continued, patrons at the bar turning back to their drinks or ordering more, having grown tolerant or indifferent to seeing such a scene on a daily basis. 

Her rescuer cleared his throat pointedly behind her.  Lightning turned, albeit very reluctantly.  

If not for the blood-red eyes, one never would have suspected that Gilgamesh wasn’t human.  _Not that it would have bothered some,_ Lightning thought, not missing the hungry eyes surveying him from different corners of the club.  Almost as if aware of it, he smiled down at her with the same air of superiority she and Odin despised. 

The very same superiority that had led to Odin slicing one of those six arms of his clean off. 

“Farron!” he grinned, much like someone who had unwrapped a present and had found its contents to be more than satisfactory.

“Gilgamesh,” Lightning returned, with all the warmth winter could bring. She started scanning the room, annoyed that she hadn’t even registered Raines’ presence until the eidolon had showed up.  _The cie_ _’_ _th_ _—_

“He won't get far,” Gilgamesh avowed, as if he’d heard what she was thinking.  He turned to the other bouncer who’d arrived to escort them out as well.  “It’s alright: my consort and I have decided to celebrate our reunion elsewhere."

"Uh-huh,"  the bouncer was unconvinced. "This way guys."

They followed the woman through the throng, Gilgamesh’s hand lowering to hover at Lightning’s back to guide her.  Lightning caught it before it could cheekily go any lower and ‘accidentally’ brush against her ass.  He let out a chuckle.  “Reflexes still as sharp as ever, Farron.”

Lightning decided to let the matter slide.  There were much bigger things to worry about.  She sucked in a breath at the sudden cold as the door closed behind them, wrapping her arms around herself.

The only warmth she could feel was her brand for the first time in years, burning white-hot against her skin.

***

Concelare _,_ or the 'Lucis underbelly' as it was more widely known, was a labyrinth of failing neon lights, broken glass, and lop-sided street signs.  The air was stale, thick with stenches each fouler and more intimate than the last, and almost difficult to see through, but Gilgamesh navigated it with ease.  An ease Lightning was certain stemmed from familiarity as a result of numerous visits, rather than sharp sense of direction.

When they finally emerged at the border line where Concelare ended and Laxus began, the sun was beginning to set.  Raines was sitting on a park bench waiting for them.  Beside the other l'Cie, with his head lolling forward in deep sleep, was the boy who had attacked her. As Lightning approached, Raines carefully lifted the boy’s head, exposing his neck. The stony protrusions were gone, the skin restored back to health.

“Healing him won’t solve the problem.” Lightning said, scowling.  Cie'th, as problematic as they were, were only a symptom.

“I know.” Raines nodded to Gilgamesh, and the eidolon appeared instantly at his side, gently picking up the boy and vanishing from sight.  "We can use him to find others, if there are more.  No telling how far the infection has spread.  Not a very devout lot, most of the people here...alcohol makes them more pliable, dulls the senses. Allows outside influence to seep in; take root."

Great, one more person undermining her abilities. “Come to gloat?”

“I came to _help_ ,” Raines corrected, looking offended before his expression softened.  “Or at the very least, offer some guidance."

Lightning’s eyes were still narrowed.  “Serah sent you.”

“Fero pondus is a week from now—”

 _“_  S _erah sent you._ _”_

“ _Yes_.”  Raines’ gaze was serene as he looked at her.  “But it doesn’t really matter, does it? One of us would have come eventually.”

Lightning sighed, and then dropped onto the bench beside him. 

"Something in you has changed," Raines said.  

She massaged her temples. “She really does see everything, doesn’t she?”

“Not everything.  The main things, the ones that matter.  Perhaps she didn’t think you’d at all appreciate the irony of facing off against Hope.”

“Does she really think I’m going to mess up the paradox?”

“She actually didn’t say,” Raines answered, turning to smile at her. " _Are_ you?"

Lightning sighed. “What do you want Raines?”

“A private place to talk, for starters.”

“The king doesn’t know you’re here,” Lightning surmised.  _Surprise, surprise._

“I don’t believe in extravagant entrances.”

"The club wasn't extravagant enough?"

Raines chuckled quietly.  

“My place is probably bugged.”  Lightning said, remembering when Prompto had broken in.  "If you want to talk without them listening in..."

Raines stood and offered a hand.  “Mine, then.”

***

 _"W-wait! His Highness is on his way out!  You can_ _’_ _t just_ _—_ _"_

_Prying the aide's hand off her shoulder without breaking it took considerable restraint on Lightning's part. She all but shoved the young woman aside.  "This will only take a second."_

_Lightning entered the library and locked the door behind her.  Noctis had just finished slinging his laptop bag over his shoulder, headphones hanging around his neck. His hands were still gloved, she noted.  She leaned against the door as an extra measure and crossed her arms._

_"Alyssa I told you,_ _”_ _he was saying exasperatedly,_ _“_ no more interviews _; I'm late enough as it is_ _—_ _"_

_"Then I'll try to make this as monosyllabic as possible."_

_Noctis froze, eyes whipping up to meet hers in the silence.  She saw no confusion in his eyes from the unexpected visit, only a guarded awareness._

_As if he'd been waiting_ _—_ preparing _—_ _for this moment._

 _"_ _Light," he smiled, but there was no crinkling at the corners of his eyes that happened when he usually did.  Her arms tightened over her chest instinctively. "Something I can help you with?"_

_"Funny I was going to ask you the same thing."_

_He grinned.  "Well, seeing as you asked, Stella wanted to do a movie night," Lightning twitched in irritation "got any recommendations?  She loves comedy."_

_"There's that one about  l'Cie learning to trust humans again, you seen that one?_ _”_ _Lightning snapped._ “It's a real riot."

 _The laughter in Noctis' eyes died away instantly.  He came around the long table to stand in front of her._ _“_ _Light_ _…_ _what is this about?_ _”_

 _“_ _The_ truth _._ _”_ _Lightning  held up a hand to deter him from touching her shoulder.  She closed her eyes, trying not to let her temper get the better of her.  "Caelum.  I_ need _to know that I can still trust you._ _”_

_He frowned and tried to approach her again, arms reaching out-_

_“_ Don’t.”

 _“_ _Light,_ _”_ _the hurt in his tone was genuine._ _“_ _Why would you think that you_ can’t?”

 _“_ _It was about the crystal, wasn_ _’_ _t it?_ _”_ _Lightning said.  Noctis_ _’_ _expression did not change, but it was his eyes that gave him away: blue hardening into amber._ _“_ _That meeting all those months ago._ _”_ _When he continued to remain silent she grasped_ _hold of his wrist.  Squeezed hard, to bring him back to reality._ _“_ _Caelum you_ need _to tell me what_ _’_ _s going on._ _”_ You need to trust me.

 _“_ _You_   _'re angry,_ _”_ _he said quietly._

_“ I'm not.”_

_“_ _You never call me Caelum unless_ you are _.  What exactly have I done?_ _”_

 _“_ Just **tell** me _.  The meeting_ was _about the crystal, wasn_ _’_ _t it?  Has it_ _…”_ _her grip on his arm loosened, voice lowering to a whisper because admitting felt like it solidified what she'd been fearing most._ _“_ _Has the crystal been compromised?  Is that why Tenebrae_ _—”_ _She let out a surprised gasp when he suddenly took hold of both her hands._

 _His eyes locked onto hers._ _“_ _The crystal is_ safe _, Light," he told her fiercely.  "I promise._ _”_

_The determination was sincere.  Her resolve weakened, but for only a fraction of a second before she was twisting her hands out of his grip._

_“_ _What_ _—”_

 _“_ _I wasn't asking if it_ _’_ _s_ safe! _”_ _Lightning snapped._ _“_ _I_ _’_ _m_ asking _you if_ _—”_

_A gentle knocking at the door._

_"I swear you're_ _worse than Luna,"_   _Stella giggled._ _“_ _Or did you fall asleep again?_ _”_

 _“_ _You know what? I_ _’_ _ll just go find out for myself ,_ _”_ _Lightning decided.  She shoved him off and turned, intent on storming out of the door when Noctis forced it closed again; one palm pressed firmly against the wood above her head. She turned back and glared, her voice a deadly whisper._ _“_ _Get out of my way._ Sire _._ _”_ _She added with a snarl, electricity beginning to charge the air._

 _The prince stayed right where he was, eyes locked on hers._ _“_ _Stella,_ _”_ _he stated, and in a deceptively cheerful tone given the livid mask on his face._ _“_ _Would you mind waiting in the car?  I 've still got a few more things to pack._ _”_

 _“_ _Are you serious? " Stella laughed.  "You_ _’_ _re going to take_ forever _at this rate.  That's it, I'm coming in_ _—”_ _she rattled on the doorknob._

 _“_  No don't," Noctis said hastily, " _you'll ruin the surprise._ _”_

Surprise?  _Lightning mouthed, incredulous._

  _The rattling stopped._ _"_ _Surprise?_ _”_ _Stella repeated on the other side._

 _“_ _You did ask me to surprise you,_ _”_ _Noctis said, strained as he looked at Lightning._ Please, _he mouthed._

_Lightning crossed her arms, teeth grounding together._

_“_ _I suppose I did,_ _”_ _Stella replied , and evidently in a tone that suggested she was rolling her eyes._ _“_ _Don't_ _be long,_ _”_ _she called, before  her footsteps faded out of the hallway altogether._

 _“_ _I won't_ _,_ _”_ _Noctis promised._

 _“_ _Of course  not,_ _”_ _Lightning pushed him away and wrenched the door open wide._ _“_   _Because I_ _won't  be wasting any more of your time._ _”_

 _“_ _Light_ _—”_

_She slammed the door in his face._

 

***

Lucis Palace at sunset—when the smog cleared up— was an artist’s pallete brought to life: vibrant hues of red, yellow, and purple splashed in stark contrast to the steely spires that housed the royal family.  Coupled with the leaves floating gently in the autumn breeze, the scene was picturesque and calming—especially with the generous vantage point Hotel Vincere provided—but all Lightning could see was the steady resolve she’d been building over the years, unraveling into a strewn and tangled mess at her feet. 

Raines moved onto the balcony beside her.  “Yours may be the most direct, but it isn’t the only way.  Let me speak with the king.  The man owes me a debt,” he said.  His fingers had barely brushed over her knuckles when Lightning flinched at the contact.  “I’m sorry.” He tried to retract his hand, but she stopped him, covering it with her own.  He waited, expression questioning.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture; it’s just that I’ve grown... _unused_ to it.”

“I know you have more to say.”

She took a deep breath, feeling a little unnerved by his gaze, trying not to think about whether or not she was imagining him leaning in a little closely, or if it was _her_ leaning closer to _him_ in an almost subconscious search for warmth and familiarity, safety.

Trust. 

“When I first got here, I had to force myself to forget what home felt like; stay away from things that reminded me of our siblings, our family because it’s the only way I can _deal with all of this._   It was the only way I can cope with…the end.  When my time comes. 

It’s enough that Serah’s…but for her benefit I _did_ try...” Lightning trailed off, hating how _pathetic_ she sounded, how _weak_ she must look to him.   _I tried and look where that got me._ She exhaled and concentrated on the rage building inside her, held onto it, because it fueled her resolve.  She would need it for the treasonous act she was about to commit.  “We’ve held ourselves in check by constructing our own leashes under the guise of rules, layers of formality and whatever else have you.  But I _know,_ Raines.  What Hope said all those years ago, what Violetta did—they were right: our system is flawed.”

“Flawed how?”

“I thought I was doing the Goddess’ will by upholding the laws, but they aren’t _Her_ laws.  _We_ were the ones who decided that we weren’t needed anymore; that we should fade into obscurity; that we should wait for our time to die.  I don’t think She ever wanted us to live that kind of life, but our bitterness toward humans made that difficult for us to see.  Don’t get me wrong; I still can’t stand them.  The thought of laying down my life for a son of a bitch who won’t even _care_ or realize the meaning of my sacrifice—”

“So you seek not truth, but retribution.” Raines concluded.  He squeezed her hand. " _Recompense_."

 _I sought equality when there was none; th_ _ere never was._   “Times have changed, they keep telling me.” _He keeps telling me._ _“_ And we l'Cie need to change with it.  They’ll leave us behind if we don’t,” she added softly.  _They've already left us behind._ “Our complacency ends now.  With or without your approval I've already made up my mind.  But I know you aren't here to try stop me.”

"How can you be so sure?"

"You would have done so already.  You want to see how this all plays out; you still trust in the future Serah saw for all of us."

Whatever arguments Raines had to refute that, he did not voice them. He squeezed her hand one last time then turned and strode toward the balcony doors.  “Good luck,” he said, and he shut them behind him.

Lightning closed her eyes.  After a moment, she thrust her hand out in front of her. She drifted into the chasm between the Seen and Unseen, focusing on her heartbeat, listening for a second one.  The din of the city below faded away and for a brief moment she hovered in the abyss, seemingly aimless until a steady grip closed over hers.  Reaching with all her strength, she pulled him through. 

As Odin crossed through the Unseen, she felt his energy flow into her, through her; white-blue tendrils of electricity licking the air all around.  The lights in the penthouse began to flicker, faster and faster; beads of sweat forming on Lightning’s brow as the forces of the Seen world tried to push Odin back onto his own plane.  The energy spiked, and then just as quickly imploded, sending shards of glass hailing upon the ground as all the light bulbs inside the apartment exploded. There was silence, and then Lightning felt the familiar weight of his gauntleted hand pressed firmly into her back. Suddenly one of her cheeks was wet. 

_I trusted him. You warned me and still I-_

_COMPASSION IS NOT WEAKNESS.  I AM NOT FAULTING YOU FOR IT._

_I should have listened; should have--_

_YOU CAN LISTEN TO ME NOW._ “We will not hold back.”  

“Yes.” Her hand closed over Ultima’s handle.  As her grip hardened, so too did her resolve; her heart.  When she looked to Insomnia again her irises were a glowing, white-blue fire. 

 _“_ _Not anymore."_ _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may think of the Commandare as similar to the Command Spells in Fate Stay Night/Zero. So much love for that series.


	13. Insubordination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis reaps the consequences of keeping secrets from Lightning.

_“You’re running away.”_

_“I need to be alone.”_

_“You’re running away.”_

_It was a mercy for Raines when the elevator doors finally opened.  He knew quickening his pace as they hurried through the foyer was pointless—where could one go where the living manifestation of your soul could not?—but he tried anyway.  He pushed through the front doors, stepping into the night._

_“There’s no where you can go where I can’t follow.” Gilgamesh called from behind him.  "Look at me!"_  

_He grabbed Raines’ arm, the one that held the Mark, and twisted Raines to face him.  Raines winced as the eidolon squeezed, breathing hard through his nostrils, on the precipice having every single bone snapped in half.  The scene earned a few worried looks from passers-by, but none stepped in to intervene for fear of reprisal._

_"We're fine, keep moving."  Raines told them before turning back to the eidolon.  He tried to keep his voice steady.  “The crystal is Lightning’s responsibility—”_

_“And Lightning is _ours_.”_

_“She made her choice. And I—” he almost lost his balance as Gilgamesh jerked him forward, eyes beginning to glow._

_“And _you_ ,  _Cid_ ," Gilgamesh spat, handsome features contorting into an ugly scowl "are so deep in your own hell that you’re content to drag the rest of the world down there with you.”  _

_Then he let go, and Raines’ heart sank into his stomach.  He grabbed him by the shoulders, Gilgamesh's urgency and betrayal bleeding into him even more acutely than before._

_“Gilgamesh—”_

_“Our mission was to make her see reason.”_ _His clothes faded away, armour covering his skin as he spoke, helm hiding his face, body growing larger and larger.  At his true height Gilgamesh's arms were the size of tree trunks, with four extra limbs emerging from his torso._ Four _, Raines noted,_ not three _.  It seemed he'd finally managed to regenerate the one he'd lost in the altercation he'd had with Lightning and Odin, years ago.  Last to appear was Gilgamesh's sword: a large two-handed claymore with runes etched onto the flat of the blade.  He took his stance, shifting his weight onto his back foot, preparing to spring._

_"Gilgamesh-"_

_“Looks like I need to start with you.”_

_He lunged._

***

 _Everything I’m doing, everything that I_ have _done, is for her.  Why can’t she see that?_

Noctis stared absently out the window of his father's towncar as it moved through the evening traffic on their way back from the airport, inner turmoil carefully hidden behind an emotionless façade.  There was no way he could go to Tenebrae with Stella, not with the way things stood between he and Lightning.  All the way to the airport and back he replayed the last conversation he’d had with her, thinking of all the things he could have said— _should_ have said.  His phone lay on the floor by his feet, discarded in anger.  All his calls to Lightning had gone unanswered, swallowed up by the carrier’s monotonous voicemail service.

 _“The truth.  Caelum I need to know that I can still trust you.”_  

 _Still trust you_.  ‘Still’ had been the operative word; Noctis had already lost her trust.  As remorseful as he was for it, he was also angry at himself.  He _knew_ the minute she’d stormed out of his office he’d lose her.  He knew there had still been time to admit that she was right, to tell her the _truth_.  But the belief that he could somehow fix things on his own, the belief that _he_ could save _her_ was so strong, it was only lies that left his lips instead.   Lying to her as he had been for _months_ —was now as easy as breathing. And he was fine with it, in a morbid sense.  He could live with her hating him.  He just couldn’t live—

The towncar came to a sudden halt, jarring his thoughts back to the present.  Noctis managed to stop himself from hitting the driver’s seat. He quickly looked at Ignis to see if he was alright. 

“What’s wrong?”

Ignis was staring outside the window, jaw slightly agape, finger pressed against the glass, pointing.  “What…what is that?”

A few feet ahead in the centre of the bridge where cars had swerved to avoid a collision, a lone figure was slowly straightening, the road around its feet cracked and dented into the earth.  In the sea of panicked civilians scattering to get as far from it as possible it stood completely still; a white-blue glow emanating through the eyeholes of its visor.

Waiting.

From the front seat Ignis swore under his breath, frantically twisting the keys in the ignition.  The engine stuttered, but failed to start.  He hopped out of the car and opened the passenger door, all but dragging Noctis out.

“Noct, this isn’t time for sightseeing. You need to get out of here.  _Now.”_  

He shoved Noctis behind him and stood with his hands outstretched, muttering a spell under his breath.   Dust shot forward from his fingertips forming a barrier that encompassed the entire width of the bridge, stretching skyward before enclosing the knight in a dome. 

“Run!” Ignis ordered.  “I’m right behind you.”

Unperturbed by the barrier, the knight, looking straight at Noctis, raised his right hand and formed a fist.

All the blood in Noctis’ veins turned to ice. Instinct had him summoning his sword.  “Where is she!” he demanded.  There was no reason the eidolon's appearance was simply to talk.

“Your _highness_!” Ignis hissed, whipping his head around to shoot him a glare. 

The prince barely heard him, still staring straight ahead.  He was so familiar with the gesture, he wondered if he had imagined the pressure of that fist at his back.   It was so strange; seeing it raised not behind him, but against him.  Strange to think that a single gesture could shift his entire reality.  Had it really come to this?  

Odin’s fist opened slightly, a sword emerging in the space between.  In his left hand a shield appeared, and he knocked the flat of his blade against it once, creating a loud, sharp clang.  Then he leapt backward, body coiling; a viper preparing strike.  He spoke: voice low, but no less authoritative.

_Much like Lightning’s._

_“I have no quarrel with your friend, but I will not hesitate to cut him down, should he interfere.”_

_He’s only after me._  

“Ignis,” Noctis said, feeling his hands shake, “get out of here, and then find Lightning.” 

“If you think for _one_ second—”

“Find Lightning!” Noctis yelled.  “Bring her here.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll…” Noctis surveyed Odin’s armour apprehensively “…manage.”  Even at his most optimistic, ‘manage’ was a major understatement. 

“It’ll kill you!”

“There’s no way Odin’s appearance has gone unnoticed!  Support should be on the way.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence!” Ignis snapped. “You and I both know you could be _killed_ before—”

“ _Ignis_ ,” Noctis turned and glared, “I’m not asking you; I am _telling_ you, as your prince and future king: find Lightning.”

“Any ideas where I should start?” Ignis said, grudgingly standing down, jaw set.  “This barrier isn’t going to last forever, you know.”

 _"She won’t come,”_ Odin called, and both men turned to him. 

“What do you mean ‘won’t come’?” Ignis demanded, but the eidolon was only interested in Noctis.

The next few words Odin spoke threatened to tear him from the inside out.  Noctis had already known to expect anger from Odin, but anger wasn’t the only emotion that filtered through.  There was a sadness that lingered at the edge of Odin’s voice, running deep as the gulf Noctis had created between he and Lightning. 

 _"We gave you a chance to tell us yourself,”_ Odin said.  “ _You made us a promise.  We trusted you to stay true to it._ We _. Trusted._ You _.”_

“I was coming back to explain!”

_“Tonight is the last time you make fools of us.  Now, we will take those answers for ourselves.  Starting with your father.”_

The eidolon charged.


	14. 6. Tibi Magno Cum Amor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis faces off against Odin. Lightning discovers a truth she hadn't set out to find.

**Chapter 6:  
** For You, With Great Love

* * *

 

Talented as he was, Ignis’ barrier was not going to hold for very long.  Three or four strikes, at the most, Noctis hazarded. He needed to utilize this window of time to survive until backup arrived.

 _..._ or not.

Shield raised forward in front of him, Odin had rammed against the barrier with all his might, the resulting contact force strong enough to knock Noctis onto his back. Then he leapt backward, preparing to charge again.  There was an eerily triumphant smirk on Odin’s face despite the barrier still holding.  That was when Noctis spotted the single, innocuous crack he’d created.

The eidolon burst through, barrier shattering into dust behind him.  Noctis raised his shields in time, blocking a powerful kick aimed at his face.  He skittered backward on the asphalt, feeling his teeth rattle, heart pounding a mile a minute from the adrenalin, hands vibrating from the aftershocks.  He summoned his sword, fighting to keep his grip steady. 

The eidolon paused for a brief moment, rolling his shoulders.

And then he was on him, moving too fast for the prince to properly choose a place to warp to that could give him decent enough cover. They traded blows, Noctis’ furious slashes skidding off Odin’s shield, useless.  He rolled to the side to avoid being stomped flat, then hauled himself backward on his ass in time to watch the shield whiz across in a horizontal arc.  Right where his head could have been.

 _Way too close._  

He ducked another slash and started running, aiming to put as much distance between them as possible.  On top of reach—Noctis’ teleporting power notwithstanding--the eidolon also had speed on him. If his spars with Lightning were any indicator of who he was up against, he was going have to keep his teleporting to a minimum.  It had become very apparent that this battle was not going to be about winning. 

It was about _surviving_.

***

The objective was deceptively simple: get the crystal; get out. 

Lightning was already in the room that led to the crystal chamber, tugging uncomfortably at armour she’d stolen from an unsuspecting Noel who she’d incapacitated long before the first sirens sent the entire populace into lockdown.  In brutal efficiency the National Guard had been dispatched to the streets, evacuating everyone and threatening uncooperative parties with incarceration.  At the same time, flares had shot up into the sky from strategic points sitting in a circle around Lucis, intersecting one another in a brilliant display of sparks, before raining back down and encasing the whole country in a protective dome. 

 _Cutting off our escape._

From space it would almost seem as if Lucis did not exist in Eos: a black blur (or perhaps body of water) in between the blazing lights and colour of neighbouring Tenebrae and Accordo.  From the safety of bomb shelters scattered beneath the city, citizens watched a press conference filmed right in Regis’ office, explaining the ‘situation’. 

The country’s current state of emergency was a drill for a potential invasion scenario.  They did not say ‘who’, but given the general feeling of paranoia regarding the empire of Niflheim, many were content to let the government have its way, not even questioning why they would shut down all telecommunications infrastructure. The intention couldn't have been more obvious to Lightning: the world, more importantly _Bodhum_ , could not find out that Lucis had lost control of its l’cie and presently had an eidolon running rampant on State Highway 3.

“We are aiming to make this situation as realistic as possible.  Please, do not be alarmed,” King Regis had said.  “You are safe so long as you do not attempt to leave the safety of your bunkers.  There will be massive amounts of structural damage but we will try to limit it.  Our very own l’cie has graciously accepted the task of playing the invading party.  The drill will end as soon as she is subdued.   Join me in wishing her the best of luck!”

Lightning could imagine the good-natured laughter that followed.  Regis had that effect on people.  

 _I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve too, you lying son of a bitch,_ she thought, blowing air down her tunic.  Even with air conditioning the uniform was stifling hot.  John hadn’t been talking out of his ass when he said _wearing_ it was a mission in itself.  She owed him a drink next time she saw him ( _if_ she saw him).

The doors hissed open.  Lightning quickly shut her visor and saluted.  Regis walked in followed by Cor, the two already in mid-conversation: 

“—enroute with the prototype as we speak.  With any luck, we’ll have it in chains in no time.”

The general nodded at the second set of doors and she moved to open it, her memories flashing back to the file she’d seen him lugging around--the one labelled _CLASSIFIED_.   

“ _He_ ,” Regis corrected. 

“Sire?” Cor was confused.

“ _He._ Not _it_.  The eidolons are not mindless beasts; we’ve been through this, Cor.”

Lightning smiled in spite of herself.

“Ah.  Y-yes sire. My apologies, sire.  Noel,” Cor called, coming up behind her, reaching out.  “Is there something wrong with the—” 

At the last moment ‘Noel’ twisted, grabbing his arm, jerking him forward. Quick as her namesake she climbed, planting herself on Cor’s shoulders.  In the same movement she twisted her body, throwing all her weight forward until the general’s back slammed against the floor, her hand over his throat.

“ _You_ -”

She punched him out, then stood, pulling off the helmet and tossing it aside. 

Regis let out a sigh.  “You’ve been wanting to do that for a long time, haven't you?”

“Where’s the crystal?”

The king regarded her sternly.  “My son first. Is he in danger?”

Lightning's hands closed into fists.  “Odin does not hold back in battle.”

“Unless you tell him to—”

“— I _never_ tell him to.  Sire.”  She added, tone sharp.  The very _notion_ was insulting.

"Call him off.”

"I'll call him off when I've seen the crystal."

It was obvious Regis did not agree, but he relented, nevertheless. "Very well." 

She stood back as he passed and watched him enter the code that opened the chamber.  As soon as the doors were open he stepped through, sticking out an arm to prevent them from closing again. 

She tensed, gunblade materializing in her hand.  “If this is a trap-”

“If I wanted to gamble with my son’s life I would have fought you already.  I know you sent Odin after him as leverage.”

Lightning said nothing as she followed him inside, scowling when the fake came into view. 

She felt a fool. How long had she been coming here, thinking all was well? How had she never seen the fake for what it was? 

“If we’d moved it you would certainly have noticed,” Regis explained, eyes hard.  “We needed it close enough that you could still sense its energy.  No one ever expected you to actually ‘touch’ it, for erm...obvious reasons.”

"Guess you underestimated me," Lightning said, but inside she was reeling as the government's transgressions began to stack.  How far had the kingdom gone to keep this from her?  Had people been hurt in the process?  

Would they really stoop so low in the name of utilitarianism?  

"Guess so."

He went over to where the light switch was located, smoothing his hand against the panel beside it, counting the screws.  Eventually he stopped on the one that functioned as a hidden switch.  Pressing it caused a nearby panel to flip over, revealing a handprint scanner. 

But Regis did not reach toward it straight away.

“You are his friend,” he said quietly. 

“It changes nothing -”

“It changes _everything!_ ”  Regis hissed, calm exterior beginning to melt.   As he turned, Lightning saw no lies in his eyes this time: no pretense; no deceptive charm.  The three words that followed were truth: plain, and unfettered.  

Three words that pulled the ground right out from under her:

“He _loves_ you.”

The clang from Ultima clattering onto the floor seem to carry on forever. 

Lightning barely heard it.

***

Noctis was on the ground dazed and out of breath; a steady stream of blood trickling out of his mouth; a deep slash across his chest.  Above him Odin stood, the tip of his sword resting against his collar bone. In the distance he could hear the whir of a helicopter's rotors, getting closer and closer.  

 _But not quite close enough_.  

 _“Last words?”_   Odin groused.  

Noctis laughed in spite of himself. He spat out blood and smirked up at the knight.  “You really don’t like me, do you?”

The eidolon had been poised to fire back a retort when suddenly he was still, head turned slightly away from Noctis, as though listening.   Growling low under his breath he turned back, and if it was at all possible, the hatred and disgust in his eyes had increased a thousand-fold. 

_“You don’t deserve her.”_

Raising the sword once more, Odin plunged it deep into his heart.


	15. 7. Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valhalla crumbles.

* * *

  **Chapter 7 :**  
_Love is Rich with Both Honey and Venom_

* * *

He loved her.  

But all Lightning could focus on was the way Regis had said it: accusing and filled with regret—as if _she_ were the one to blame. And then anger reclaimed her heart as she remembered Serah:

_"Love will save us."_

Those had been the exact words.  And Goddess, the timing was completely laughable; 'love will save us.' What Noctis had done wasn't love; it was _selfishness_ _disguised_ _as_ _love_.  And she wanted nothing to do with it.  She summoned Ultima and pointed at the king, light reflecting off the flat edge.

“I’m here for the crystal,” she said. “Not excuses.”

“My son loves you.” Regis insisted, somehow not convinced by the threat she posed, not even blinking when she started stalking towards him.  “Constantly as Prompto; loyally to a fault like Ignis. Fiercely as Gladiolus.  You are his _friend_ , Lightning.  Is it really so surprising he’d go to such lengths? Or are l’cie so cynical and bitter that you no longer expect anything of the human race.”

He did not wince, even as Lightning’s blade pressed against his neck.  

"You know _nothing_ about who we are!" She spat.  "What we've _been_ through!" The blade pushed harder against his skin as she spoke; not enough to draw blood, but she could still feel her control slipping. Four years of her life- _gone_. Four years wasted on a lie, in a gilded cage, on the foolish dream of an equally foolish boy who claimed the ground they stood on was equal. 

 _No._  I  _was the fool for believing him._

“You're a walking contradiction, Lightning,” Regis said, still looking her directly in the eye.  Unafraid.  “You say you want truth but you can’t even _bear_ to hear it. You're more _human_ than you realize--"

"What's so human about _this_?"   Lightning grabbed the king by the throat, hoisting him up with one hand.  He weighed almost nothing to her; there was nothing remotely ‘ _human_ ’ about that fact.  “He lied to my face!” she snarled. A lump was rising in her throat, but she fought through it, letting the pain fuel her.  Rage.  Betrayal.  Hatred.  These were the only emotions she could trust herself to feel; not guilt, nor mercy. 

_REMEMBER WHY WE'RE HERE._

“I _asked_ him!" Lightning continued with a hiss.  " _S_ _o many times_ I asked him! You tell me I was his” she was so angry and hurt she almost couldn’t get the words out “his…‘ _friend_ ’—”

" _Please_..." Regis started to choke, eyes beginning to bulge, feet kicking helplessly in the air.

Lightning released him, disgusted with herself; with what she had been reduced to: a warrior and champion of Etro using her powers to strike fear into people instead of protecting them.  The main objective of the Focus was to ensure the future of all life in Eos.  By  _protecting,_ all life in Eos.  But everything felt as if it were backwards now.  In trying to stay true to the Focus-- _somehow_  it was  _she_  who was the wolf in sheep's clothing.  And how perverse, how twisted was it, that she was actually starting to _believe_ it. They had lied to her but  _she_ felt like the one who had been doing the lying.

_DO NOT WAVER._

In between coughing and trying to regulate his breathing, Regis struggled to speak.    "You _are_ his...friend..."

"It still wasn’t enough to stop him from lying to my face, was it?” Lightning jabbed a finger violently in the (fake) crystal’s direction. “ _This_.  My mission. The only thing that- _Serah_ — _my family_ —they’re depending on me to—and he...” the l'cie broke off, feeling numb as the words became more weighted in her heart; became a truth of this reality.  “He _knew_...and he... _lied_ about it,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Regis agreed softly, eyes filled with regret.  He looked down at his hands.  “Because he knew what you’d do if you ever found-”

“That’s not his choice to make!”

“Is the concept really so difficult to understand!?" Regis was getting exasperated. "Your life _means something_ to him, Lightning.”

“What are you saying?!  That my own life means _nothing_ to me?!  That I'm simply throwing it away for the hell of it!”

“That wasn't what I was trying to-"

"-with all due respect, your highness," Lightning interjected coldly "you and your son can go to Hell."

Regis opened his mouth to say something, but then thought the better of it and sighed, running a hand through his hair instead, expression sheepish. 

 _They're so alike,_ Lightning couldn't help but think.

She watched him stand, dusting himself off.

"I'm sorry," he started again, contrite.  "I really did not mean to insinuate...what I was trying to say is: is it really such a _terrible_ thing?  To _love_?  To want to protect the life of your friend?”

Lightning knew he meant well, but the logic behind his words felt like a slap to the face.  He just did _not_ get it.  “ _None_ of you get it _,_ do you!? This mission is _bigger_ _than_ _me_! If the crystal continues to deteriorate—”

“- _cieth_.” Regis finished with a wane nod.  “I've seen what happens.  I _know_. And I understand, but-”

Lightning wanted to punch a hole through the wall. “ _Understand?!_ Which 'part' did you ‘ _understand_ ’, exactly?" she demanded sarcastically.  "The part where _you knew_ , this _whole time_ and you fucking just _stood_ _there_ and—"

“You were linked to him through the Commandare!” Regis roared, unrestrained emotion finally shattering through; the shock of seeing him in such a state making Lightning's jaw clamp tightly shut.

“What could I have possibly done!" the king demanded, entire body shaking as he gestured wildly.  "Armed with that knowledge Noctis effectively held Lucis’ _future_  ransom. He warned me that if I told you about the crystal he would...he'd...” he broke off, seeing the look on Lightning's face as her heart dropped into her stomach.  

"Lightning-"

 _"You're lying,"_  she spat.  

“It's the truth—”

“He swore an _oath._ ”

Regis took a deep breath.  “I know my son, Lightning.  And if you know him as well as _you think you do_ , you'd know that he isn't one to have many close friends. The ones he does have, he loves deeply.  He has a heart that clings so tightly that he would fight for them,  _would die_  for them.  There's not a day that goes by that I don't regret standing by him when he needed me most.”

But even as he spoke Regis' voice was already fading into the background as the memory tugged Lightning back into the past; the brief glimpses of it giving her a sickening sort of clarity.  

_"...we don't have a choice-"_

_"_ You _don't have a choice;_ I  _do. I can't believe...Dad…how could you even_ think  _to make me—"_

He was never going to keep his promise, was he?

 _"—_ you  _of all people. After_ everything  _you've taught me—"_

 

“He _promised_ ,” Lightning said quietly, watching the Noctis from that memory disappear, blurring into the (fake) crystal's blue glow.

"I know he did."  Regis glared at the ground, unable to meet her eyes. “But your sacrifice carries a lot more weight than you think. I know: I went through the same thing, years ago.  And I think, if given the choice, Noctis would do it again."

 

 ** _YOU DON'T DESERVE HER_**.

 

Lightning caught a sudden glimpse of Noctis through Odin's eyes: bloodied and battered, smiling weakly up at her.  Tyrving raised right above his heart.    

_"Odin!-"_

Regis' head snapped up, understanding and abject horror dawning on his face.  In the next instant he was right in front of Lightning, grabbing her by the shoulders.

“ _Please_ ,” he begged, eyes boring so deeply into hers Lightning knew without a doubt that he was speaking to Odin through her. “ _Please._ I’ll do anything—take the crystal, take _everything_ if you must. Not my son… _please_ …he’s all I have left.”

But all Lightning could feel from the eidolon was contempt.

She shook her head slowly, suddenly unable to speak. As the blade fell, piercing the prince right through, a single tear slid down her cheek.

"No..." Regis whispered, voice shaking at the edges. Strength suddenly leaving him, his grip went limp and he slid to the floor, almost dragging Lightning down. " _No_...not my..." On all fours he bowed his head and wept, tears dripping quietly onto the cold floor.  “ _Please_ …give him back.”

Lightning watched the king, unable to look away, feeling weak-kneed and sick to her stomach. _Goddess_ , how _desperate_ , how _far gone_ had she had to have been to fulfil her Focus that she had been willing to take away a parent’s child away from them?  A parent's _only_ child. Noctis had been Regis entire _world_ , his dreams and hopes for the future, _the only thing he had left_.  She couldn't even fathom what it would be like if it were Serah who had been taken away from her so suddenly like that; so _violently_.   

_What have we...done?_

_THEY LIED TO US. HE DID NOT DESERVE-_

_You didn’t have to kill him!_ Lightning screamed.

_HE BETRAYED OUR TRUST-_

Lightning shut him out before she had to listen to more.   She turned back to Regis and reached out to him.  There were not enough words, not enough actions to show her remorse, but Etro take her, she needed to try. He needed to know that she never meant...

_I never wanted…_

“I-” she jumped as Regis slammed his fists against the floor.

" _He loved you!"_ he shouted, glaring up at her, eyes red, tears still rolling down his cheeks.   "All he _ever did_ was  _love_ you!  Noctis. _loved. you! The both of you!_   He turned his back on his kingdom; an _entire_ _population_  whose livelihood and entire way of life depended on the crystal...all  _for you!_ He went _behind my back_ to seek help from Tenebrae--whatever it took; your precious  _Dissolvere be damned! Whatever it took,_ Lightning _!_ He even offered to marry _Stella_  to render the Dissolvere void if it meant that we could access their Research and Development!   _Marriage!"_ Regis was screaming now.  "Even if it left him unhappy he would have gone through with it-- _for you both!_ And you, claiming you know him _so_ _well_ —you didn't even _notice_ , did you?! Didn't even _see_ how it tore him apart to have to _lie_ to _you_.  So typical of l’cie to be caught up in their own little world—"

Lightning's fist connected with his jaw, sending him sliding backward until he hit the wall.

"I _never_ asked him to do that for me!" she screamed back, tears now flowing freely down her face.  "I never _said_ , never implied _once_ that I _didn't_ want to sacrifice myself!  _I never asked him to..._ "  

Her voice wavered, seeing the look of pure loathing on Regis' face as he wiped the blood from his split lip.

 _I never asked him to love me._ She exhaled shakily.  “Regis.  There was no way I could’ve—”

“ _Save it."_ Regis snarled, getting to his feet.  Crystal fragments began to materialize in the air, filling the room with the deadly hum Lightning was familiar with, oscillating around the king; faster and faster, generating a wind that whipped her hair at her face.  And it wasn't even the worst of it.

It was his eyes, when he finally looked at her: the darkest shade of crimson she'd ever seen. Staring into them was almost like staring into a bottomless pit: the Hell that she and Odin deserved.  There had always been rumors about his wrath; that it was certainly something to be feared but it was always impossible to believe—he was so gentle around people.   

Her grip on Ultima loosened. 

_WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!_

_I can't fight him._

_YOU MUST._

_We took his son away-_

**I** _TOOK HIS SON FROM HIM._

 _I can't fight him._ Ultima landed on the floor with a loud _clang._ _I won't._

Spears, swords and daggers were forming into the air, assembling into a straight line, twinkling as they caught the light but shaking violently, as though it was taking immense effort on Regis' part to restrain them.  But who could blame him, really.

She tried reaching out to him one final time.  "I'm so sorr-"

The king raised his hand, palm flat and facing toward her, cutting her off.  The room was immediately filled with silence. Watching the weapons freeze suspended in the air-it was almost as if time had slowed down to a complete standstill: a sight both beautiful, and terrifying to behold. And when he finally found the words to speak Lightning knew she'd never heard so much hatred; so much violent promise; so much _thirst_ _for retribution_  in a single sentence:

" _Not as sorry as you're going to be."_   

In the confined space of the chamber Lightning stood trapped as the blades came hurtling toward her. 

***

Cruelly, a stab to the heart did not kill immediately. 

With his sharpened hearing Odin could almost visualize the prince’s heart furiously fighting to keep pumping blood, but to no avail.  Meaningful blood flow to the rest of the body would stagnate as the injury took its toll; rhythmic beating became erratic spasms—fibrillation, the process was called, and the cause of death would be suffocation. Unable to receive oxygen and blood from the heart, the rest of his other organs would quickly cease to function.  Every struggling breath the boy now took would be more painful than the last.  

Slow, _excruciating_ footsteps towards the stillness and peace his body craved.  

Dismissing his blade, Odin went down on one knee at the boy’s side, removing his helm to place it carefully on the ground beside him.  Eyes wide with fear, Noctis' entire body convulsed, one hand twitching and rolling in the dirt toward Odin in a final act of desperation.  The eidolon took it and bowed his head in a simultaneous act of prayer and respect.  Death and the doors of the Unseen were a frightening sight to behold, especially for those who were not ready for it.  

"It will be over soon," Odin promised.  Invisible to the eyes of the living, he watched as a pale yellow luminescence began flowing out of the boy's chest cavity in a steady stream, carried upward by the pull of the Unseen.  As more of it left his body, the boy's choked gasps became more violent, his grasp of Odin's hand weakening drastically.  It was almost time.  

As he began to slip under, the eidolon began to chant.  Noctis deserved this honour, surviving as long as he did, fighting as hard as he could-in spite of his fear and obvious mortality. So, rather than turn his attention to the chopper now hovering overhead; to the suspicious flow of crystal energy emanating from within it, Odin vowed to stay with the prince until the very end.  Noctis had fought for his beliefs—misguided as they might have been—and he had fought valiantly.  From one warrior to another, his bravery was worthy of Odin’s respect.  He would allow him this, at least.

" _Anima eius et animae omnium...fidelium defunctorum per Dei misericordiam..._ "

At last the Crown Prince of Lucis was still.  Odin reached out and with gentleness unexpected from a warrior who fought with the relentless brutality he did, he closed Noctis' eyes for him so that he appeared as though in sleep.  Finally, with his thumb he traced Etro's symbol over the forehead of the fallen prince, finishing off the chant.   

_“…requiescant in pace.”_

He replaced his helm over his head, and summoning his blade once more, he stood, fingers flexing over the handle. 

 _So young,_ he thought.  Whatever his misgivings with the prince, it had still been a waste, taking life from one whom it was just beginning.  Much of that regret however—as always was the case when he or Lightning took life—was for _what could have been_. 

With the right guidance Noctis could have been greater than the men that came before him. Like his predecessors he had been talented and creative in the use of the crystal’s power.  Sharp of mind: a quick learner.  Certainly a son the Lucis kingdom could look on with pride. But _too_ _much_ like his ancestors, like his _father_ , in particular, Noctis was still so very susceptible to fear and selfishness.  

Still so very... _human_ , as tonight had shown. 

The side door of the chopper slid open with a heavy  _thud._ Odin turned, ready for battle, but it was Valhalla that greeted him instead...with one, very specific difference.

Odin was standing among clouds, staring up at a grassy ceiling and the spiked spires of the castle stretching toward him.  It was as if the entire world had been literally tipped on its axis.  Even more odd was the fact that there were no tremors beneath his feet.  And the air...it was ostensibly cool, despite Valhalla's eternal summer.   Worst of all was the silence that filled it...it was not the silence that accompanied meditation: peaceful, pleasant, comforting.  It was the silence that accompanied death and grief. 

_Loss._

And then he saw her.

Ahead of him she sat on her knees, staring blankly into oblivion, the sight causing a tightening in his chest.   Odin had only ever seen her like this _once_ ; when Serah had become Seeress, and it was an almost perfect reconstruction of the memory that rushed through his synapses: the way her hands were limp at her sides, eyes blinking erratically, mouth opening and closing but failing to form words.    

But unlike _that_ time, there was no way he could tell what she was feeling without seeing her face.  There was no emotion in her heart to gauge how she was adjusting to this new reality—if she was adjusting _at all_ —to bring together the right words that needed to be said to give her some sort of solace.  All he got from her was numbness, a void in her heart that was rapidly expanding the longer he stayed silent.  In Valhalla everything, everyone was their truest 'self'--all the things they could not say, all the things they tried to hide--all of it was laid bare here.  It was up to the eidolon and l'cie to accept these truths, accept each other wholly as they were, or their bond would never hold.  

So when Odin finally noticed the strange wetness on his cheeks, it would have been easy for Lightning to understand why his entire body had gone rigid; why he was rejecting what was currently happening to him.  He did not cry. _Ever_. This couldn't be Valhalla...could it?  Was it a dream?  Was it _Lightning's_ dream?  Hand shaking, he ripped off his helm and touched his face, staring at the wet stains the tiny droplets had left on his gloves in disbelief.  Panic gripped him in his confusion and he started toward her-

"You didn't hold back."  

Her words came out in a whisper, but eidolon the froze in his tracks, only a few steps away from her, as if she'd shrieked at a high pitch.  And then he replayed her words to himself, straining to hear the accusation in her voice.  He found none, only calm acceptance. And that, in itself was disturbing; he clearly remembered her screaming for him to stop. 

"I promised you I would not." Odin hesitated, but soon enough the question he'd been dreading to ask for years finally left his lips:

"Did you love him?"

A harsh bark of laughter escaped from Lightning. 

"What?" Odin demanded, anger stirring. 

"You and I spent _four years_ with Noctis. We watched him grow to become the man he is... _was._ We stood behind him through every trial, every triumph, even foolishly believing in the dreams he had for Lucis.  What do _you_ think?"

"Stop avoiding the question," Odin growled.    

"Noctis' life was no less easier than ours.  Duty was something he understood, something we had in common.  You remember."

"But not sacrifice," Odin reminded her, tone harsh and unforgiving.  "Answer me: did you love him?" 

Lightning sat quiet for a long while.  

"He was my friend," she answered finally.  Softly.  "Why wouldn't I?"

Tyrving landed on the ground with a dull _thud_ ; the careless admission disarming Odin in more ways than he could bear to admit.

 _"What?"_  

"You heard me." Lightning's voice was steady as she stood.  She turned to face him, unflinching from his glare.

"Blasphemer!" Odin hissed, backing away as she walked towards him, tears now flowing in a steady stream down his face, blurring his vision.  "Heretic!" he spat.  Before he'd even realized, his arm had stretched out, swinging wildly--

Lightning caught the wayward fist easily.  "Noctis was  _your_ friend too, Odin."

" _You_..." Odin tore away from her in disgust, practically seething now.  "Get away from me! I'll have nothing more to do with you-"

Her palm found the centre of his chest, freezing him right in his tracks as the crystal embedded there began to pulsate in response.  He watched her trace over the insignia of Etro on his breastplate, her tone sympathetic, her eyes dead.  "I can feel the regret in your heart.  It hurt, didn't it: finding out he'd go this far for us, why he would knowingly and  _willingly_ betray our trust to keep the truth of the crystal from us.  He wanted us to _live_.  He didn't want to lose us."

"We are not his to lose!" 

"Of course we're not," Lightning agreed, morose. "It was the most... _human_ thing we could've expected from him.  And we were fools for not expecting it.  But in spite of all this, in spite of all _your_ scathing lectures to _me_ about not getting attached; all those times you screamed at _me_ to keep my distance...I know that  _you_ loved him _too_.  I know that you cared.  I know how proud you were- _are-_ of him tonight; why else would you not honour him with the final rites?" Her hand drifted to his arm and she squeezed.  "He did so well, didn't he?" she whispered.  

"He did," Odin admitted quietly.

"But you, being so afraid of love--like I was; like I _still am;_ killed him in your fear.  And now our Valhalla is imbalanced.  Because tonight, in destroying a person we love, we have essentially destroyed ourselves.  And there is no coming back from that."

In a sudden, and almost violent gust of wind, Valhalla was gone, time resuming all around Odin once more as the chopper zoomed in close, kicking up dust and gravel.  Odin was still reeling from Lightning's words, he barely noticed when the side door had opened with a heavy _thud._  It was Gladiolus, mad with grief.  In his hands he had a small canon: red energy emanating from the barrel.  

Energy that was similar to the crystal.

With a hoarse cry Gladiolus pulled the trigger, letting loose a ball of red lightning.  It hit Odin square in the chest.  The effect it had was immediate: sapping a huge amount of energy right out of him, making Odin fall forward onto one knee. His vision and perception was thrown completely off balance, switching in and out of focus between Valhalla and the living world: a kaleidoscopic mess of colors and senses.  One moment he would be standing on the bridge, the next moment he was watching castle walls tumbling all around him.  On and off. Over and over (and over).

"The crystal..." he struggled to get up, overbalancing and falling forward to land on his hands and knees.  As the chopper landed, Gladiolus and a small contingent of soldiers moved quickly to surround him.  In his peripheral vision Odin saw heavy chains attached to shackles with runes from the time of Bhunivelze etched onto them.  They intended to take him alive, didn't they?  He shuffled weakly backward, only stopping when a nearby truck obstructed his movement.  Using it as a crutch, he stood shakily on his feet, one hand resting on the bonnet.

Gladiolus broke away from the group to stand right in front of him, the strange crystal-powered weapon pointed, red energy beginning to charge.  

_What have they done to it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anima eius et animae omnium fidelium defunctorum per Dei misericordiam requiescant in pace.  
> Translation:"May his/her soul and the souls of all the faithful dead, through the mercy of God, rest in Peace."
> 
> Also, in case it wasn't clear - the love emphasized in this chapter was friendship and familial love. nothing at all romantic.


	16. The Inherited Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilt, the anchor that binds one to the past.

It wasn’t the soft drumming of the early morning rain hammering against the roof, but the gradual onset of cold against his naked skin that woke him up.  The room was dark, save for a tiny sliver of light leading up to where Violetta stood naked at the windows, peering through the curtain.  Despite her proximity, the years it’d had taken to finally earn her trust, his elation at the fact that she’d  _stayed the night,_ every moment he spent with her still felt like she was a million miles away. 

Lost in a memory of  _him._

She let go of the curtain and turned, the room falling into complete darkness once more.   He had to squint a little to read the gestures she made.  

 _"You’re jealous_ ," she signed. 

Goddess, what he would have given to hear her voice just  _once_.  He knew very little about her, not wanting to force her to recount an ordeal she clearly hadn't recovered from—she had to have been close to death when he’d found her face down in the desert sand, surrounded by the charred bodies of over a hundred dead soldiers.  Knowing how secretive the l’Cie were, he’d never expected that she’d ever open up to him—she always kept her distance, kept their interactions formal and to the point—until he discovered her love for music.  That was when their dynamic shifted from awkward allies to friends.  And then this. . . whatever it was they were now.

Her talent in playing the piano was by no means unexceptional, but what really caught his attention and held it was the way she completely lost herself in the music when she played, eyes squeezed shut, mouthing words he suddenly wished he could hear.  Singing had been her  _thing_ , hadn't it?  Taking her voice had to have been the ultimate punishment from the Seeress in exchange for all the lives she'd willingly taken in her desperate need to save . . .  _him._

_Him . . ._

He sat up slowly, legs dangling over the edge of the bed, feet touching the floor.  He stared hard at the ground, feeling a lump rise in his throat.  He didn’t resent her for loving someone else, for  _being in love_  with someone else—it wasn’t something she could control.  You loved who you loved.  It was none of his business.  It was none of his business, but he loved  _her._   Love was meant to be patient, always kind,  _never_  selfish. 

And yet. . .

His hands curled into the wrinkled sheets at his sides and he counted to two in his head before answering. He didn't want to let his emotions get the better of him.  

“Would you be upset with me if I said I was?”

She stood, deliberating for a moment.   _"_ _I'd be. . . c_ _urious."_

“Curious . . .” he repeated quietly to himself.  _Not angry._  Goddess, was he a fool sometimes.  He should have remembered she had years— _centuries_ of life experience on him, the saint-like patience that came with the territory.  

_"Why would you be jealous?  He’s dead."_

“Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving him,” he pointed out, the words feeling like acid on his tongue.  He heard her sigh quietly and his hands clenched tighter to the point of pain.  “Violetta I. . . I’m not going to force you to forget him, I’d never ask you to do that.”

" _But_?" She frowned.

“But I need to know if there really isn’t any hope at all for me in continuing to pursue you this way.  I still value you as a person, and your friendship especially.  If you want to remain friends I can do that.  If you want me to go away, forget about all this" he gestured between them "I can do that, too.  I don't want you to feel the need to be with me because I took you in.”

_"Thank you."_

“So. . . friends then?” 

For a brief moment a shadow had passed over her face as she stood there deep in thought.  But then she came to the bed and sat beside him. He took a deep breath. This was it: moment of truth.

 _"You’re not wrong_ ," she said.  " _I love him.  I’ll always love him_."  She touched the back of her right shoulder, tracing over the secondary brand. _"He and I were destined.  Soul mates."_

He stared at it—at  _her_  crushed, and then unable to help himself, hung his head.  Last night  _had_  been a mistake.  A drunken moment of weakness.  He should have known better, but Goddess he’d wanted her—had ached for her for so long, he—

—and all this time she was only ever going to love—

"I see." He tried very hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "I'll-" 

She touched his lips, silencing him, before tilting his gaze back to hers.

_"Destiny doesn’t mean I’m incapable loving another person like that and just as fiercely."_

Then the l’Cie sat back and waited, a tiny blush on her cheeks while he stared at her, heart beating so hard in his chest he was certain she could hear it.  

“I…” his voice chose that moment to die in his throat as he took in her words. 

 _"Cat finally got your tongue?"_ She teased, violet eyes filled with laughter. 

 ** _I LOVE YOU_** , he signed, grinning from ear to ear.  "I love you."

 _"I noticed."_ She told him, rolling her eyes.  She let out a gasp when he suddenly tackled her back into the bed, kissing her deep, hugging her tight as she melted in his arms.  When he finally pulled back, breathless, and because she was lightly pushing him back, he stared at her in confusion until her lips moved. He could have sworn he heard her voice, but perhaps that was the euphoria taking over every one of his senses. 

_"I love you."_

“Marry me,” he blurted out.

 _No._ She was firm as she said it.  Definitely looked like she meant it, too.

“Can't blame a guy for trying,” he shrugged.  He leaned in close again and kissed her again, continuing where he left off-

 

"I thought I'd find you here," Serah said softly. 

"He is always here," Nix pointed out while Raines waved his hand over the Seeing pools in front of him, the memory disappearing in a series of ripples before the water turned still once more.  

"Poring over memories that are not his to see," muttered Styria.

"Living in the past, in delusion."

"Neglecting the present, out of fear."

"Destroying the future, out of selfishness," Gilgamesh added on a growl where he lay bruised and bloody just a few paces away, sword embedded in a nearby tree. 

Raines ignored them all and stayed where he sat in the grass, grey eyes fixed on the water.  "I've failed you, Seeress.  I'm sorry.  I can't be a part of the vision you saw for us--"

Serah's hand settled onto his shoulder, silencing him.  "This is bigger than us Cid.  Should the last crystal fall before we find the child born of our world and theirs, Bhunivelze _will_ find a way back to Ecumene.  _Unchallenged,_ Cid. We l'Cie will be powerless to stop him."

"So many children have been born since that prophecy was made, Seeress.  So many generations, so many bloodlines. . .it is impossible. . " he noticed the smile on Serah's face. "Isn't it?"

Serah did not answer, choosing instead to hold out her hand. 

"Seeress?" he asked, as she pulled him onto his feet.

"It's as I've been telling you time and time again, Cid Raines: love will save us.  Let me show you."

A great gust of wind suddenly picked up, engulfing all four of them in a vortex, the Unseen becoming a blur in the background, before dying away just as quickly, leaving only the Shiva sisters standing quietly in the meadow. 

"Love will save us," Nix repeated, giving her sister a sideways glance.  "Do you truly believe that, Styria?"

Styria only smiled.   


	17. The Veil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Souls go to Valhalla at the conclusion of their journey through life.  
> But where do the memories go?

In death a soul’s journey was less protracted, less painful and certainly less dramatic.    

Upon departure from Ecumene, the revolving gates of the Unseen would swing softly open and shut by just a hair’s breadth—no more, no less—enough to allow a soul passage into Valhalla. Beyond the gates hung a Veil crafted by Etro’s own hand,  spanning the unlimited expanse of the Unseen in all directions, ready to catch the memories of the departed and separate them from the entanglements of the living world once and for all.    

And the memories that were left behind, these remnants, these echoes of the past, these. . . cobwebs tangled up in the Veil.  Goddess, they were such fragile, fragile things.  The simple act of plucking them and guiding them into the Seeing Pools was far more arduous in practice:  one gesture made out of rhythm, the blink of an eye at the wrong moment and they would tear, rendering memories fragmented--or worse, _useless_.  Softer than the breath of a newborn babe, more delicate than a snowflake in the summer heat—such a task had to be pure punishment, requiring prodigious dexterity, the patience of assassins. 

And as fate would have it, in all its satirical glory--it just so happened that there was an assassin in the l'Cie brotherhood.

Snow Villiers. Before he had been recruited to the l’Cie cause, before the First Seeress had ever found them, such had been his and the Shiva sister's trade: tracking down members of Bhunivelze’s inner circle hidden amongst humanity’s upper echelons of power--and snuffing them out.  With his warm charm and easy confidence, Snow was a natural: drawing in targets like gravity, putting them at an ease that lowered their defenses. . .

. . . he was surprisingly agile for a man of his large build: he moved like Nix and Styria did; like water in the shadows, a gradual rising tide that went unnoticed until it was too late and their enemies were drowning, clawing desperately for life while he dragged their souls into the Unseen.   

 _“Bonum commune communitatis. . . bonum commune communitatis. . .”_ he used to chant, over and over.   It was the only thing Snow had to keep the guilt from overwhelming him--he was not a man without remorse. He knew the names of the human souls he’d forced into the Unseen ahead of their time, he knew all the people—sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, friends, lovers—who would come for him, seeking revenge in their justified anguish.  Even after the war had been 'won' and he outlived the new enemies he had created for himself, he still chanted their names in deep sleep--the mark of a man held prisoner by his own guilt.

Surely. . .  

. . . surely it was by grace of the Goddess alone that they had never transitioned into cieth, _surely_. 

Snow’s methods were a means to an end, but he never deluded himself into thinking there wasn’t blood on his hands, on _their_ hands.   In the aftermath of Bhunivelze’s ‘temporary’ defeat (temporary, they would later discover from Fifth Seeress Yeul who had shared this knowledge at the cost of her life) Snow and the Shiva sisters were already more than eager to serve, to accept whatever punishment the First Seeress saw fit.  Small penance for the sins, the horrors they had committed in the name of preserving humanity's future.   They sat at the worst end of the schism that divided the l'Cie - forcibly taking human life to preserve it instead of waiting, gently guiding them like Raines insisted.

 _“The child born of both worlds, the Mirus Child_ _, the Child_ _that is Promised_ _,_ ” First Seeress Rydia's prophecy went _._ _“By their hand_ _the Destroyer will be contested and slain.  By their hand the world as we all know it will end.  By their hand we will find release from the contract binding us to the world's survival._ _Use the memories_ _._ _Find the Child and you will find the Light to lead us Home.  Find the Child and you will find r_ _edemption.”_   

And thus began the search: Snow in the land of the living—the present—and the Shiva sisters in the land of the dead—the past.   

 _Somewhere_ , their unspoken mantra went.  _Somewhere_.  Somewhere within these flashes of the past, these documentations of lives lived and lost, _somewhere_ there existed a trail, a genetic memory leading them to the Child that Was Promised.  Somewhere, amidst the hopes and dreams, amidst the wishes that went unfulfilled, the desires that went undisclosed . . .   

“Nix. . .” Styria’s normally indifferent tone was breathless, not taking her eyes off target as she cradled the air around the newly formed memory, as if it were a weak flame to defend from the elements.  “Nix. . .to me, quickly now,  I think. . . ”  

At once Nix was at her side, hands hovering near Styria’s arms, ready to steady her lest she lost her footing while she lowered the memory into the water.  (An impossible result, for Nix and Styria’s gracefulness was unparalleled among the eidolons, but Nix was always cautious.) 

 _Centuries_ , Nix thought, watching Styria with bated breath.   _Centuries_ they had searched.  Centuries they had _suffered_ , had _waited_.  It would _kill_ Snow if they fell short, so close to fruition. 

With Serah beginning to succumb to the Seeress curse, the hunt for this 'miracle child' was becoming desperate.  There would be no more Seeresses once Serah's tenure ended--she refused to name a successor.  What good would they be except to point out the obvious: that the End was drawing near?  Such energy was better spent in preparing for it, rather than seeing it, Serah believed.  Every sacrifice their brothers and sisters made to keep the crystal alive, to keep the seal around the Destroyer’s prison _intact_ , to keep this false god deep in slumber—was numbered. 

Seven active l’Cie remained in the world, _seven_.  Seven who remained whole (and unattached to humanity).  Seven ready to throw their lives on the line in a last ditch attempt to defend humanity if the Child was never found.    

 _Pathetic_ , Nix bristled, lips thinning into a line. _Seven to die for nothing._ It was suicide.   

“Do not think like that," Styria chided, gently. 

“It cannot be helped,” Nix said.  They were running out of time— _had_ run out of time.  Lightning’s unexpected act of rebellion; that last cut to effectively sever their ties with humanity—the final _Dissolvere_ which Cid had been assigned—and consequently _failed_ —to _prevent_. . .   

. . . _that_ was the catalyst heralding Bhunivelze’s return.  The sisters had tried to delay Odin, tried to hold him back, make him see reason, but their absence from the battlefield, from any amount of fighting, had given their brother the edge and determination needed to shrug them off—and all too easily.  The resulting violent ripple that reverberated throughout Valhalla as he clawed his way out of the Unseen , forcing himself onto Ecumene’s plane to help Lightning –it was almost as if the Destroyer himself had turned on his side while in deep sleep.  

“It’s _his_ ,” Styria whispered.  Her eyes were wide and luminous as the memories dissolved into the water in a glowing blur of color.  Sitting on her knees now, she leaned forward, one hand dipping into the Seeing Pool to swirl them into order.  Voices began to fill the silence, some familiar, some not so, all growing louder and clearer.  “Never in all our years . . . never have I held something so. . . ”  

“Beautiful?” Nix hazarded, cynical of the term.   

“ _Pure_ ,” Styria breathed, looking up at her. “You saw the color— _red_ , Nix. Surely that _alone_ is a sign.”  

“Or an omen,” Nix muttered.  Red was the color Bhunivelze favored, the color of a dying crystal’s glow, the color of the _blood_ on their hands.  She took her place beside her sister, and watched her draw her hand back from the water, bringing the memory to the surface.  

With hope creating butterflies in their stomachs, they watched.


	18. From the Beginning [In Memoriam]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shiva Sisters follow the red thread.

At age eighteen Regis already has what others dream of: good looks, money, _power—_ the respect and admiration of an entire country at his feet.  He’s seeing a lovely girl:  _Julienne_ , from a respectable family and though it’s far too early to be thinking about the future, _much less building a family_ with her, he’s open to the concept—he’s open to _a lot_ of things; something his father attributes to the thirst for knowledge he inherited from his mother’s side of the family.  He attends all the charity events, all the important dinners without complaint—actually _enjoys_ volunteering his time to help his mother out with organizing them, too, and zealously goes out of his way to make sure everything runs without a hitch.  He's well liked among his peers and a favourite discussion topic amongst the social circles his parents frequent.  

 _And he's only eighteen_ , is how all these conversations regarding Regis ends.  Eighteen years old and Regis Lucis Caelum is the most mature, most responsible, most promising young man in all of Lucis.

(Possibly all of Eos, if Queen Penelope ever let her husband brag.)  

So it’s only natural when King Aurelius comes knocking on his bedroom door to prepare Regis for his first meeting with Lucis’ new l’Cie and finds the room  _empty—_ save for an apologetic letter on Regis’ desk detailing all the reasons why he’s ‘ _just not ready’_ —that everyone in Lucis loses their shit.

Well, everyone except for Queen Penelope, of course; she’s calm about the whole affair— _eerily_ so.  In fact, it’s almost as if she’s been _expecting_ it.  She doesn’t blink, doesn’t even look up when her husband bursts in on her chess match with the Tenebrae Ambassador, huffing and puffing because he’s obviously run all the way down the palace stairs from the fifth floor  (instead of being a sensible human being and using the lift— _again_ ). Penelope has to hold in a laugh at the very sight of him: expensive silk shirt soaked right through with sweat, hair all disheveled, face so red, he could give lobsters a run for their money.  Aurelius can be so dramatic, sometimes.

“He’s gone!”

The ambassador looks from Penelope to the Aurelius as the announcement is made, unsure if he should leave or if this is a parlor game the two like to indulge in to confuse their guests.   Everyone knows about the Caelum family's. . . particular brand of humor.

“Erm, who’s gone?” he asks, politely, to fill the silence.    

“My _son_!” King Aurelius half screams, half shouts, eyes wide and glaring at Queen Penelope.  And then he adds, _pointedly_ , “ _our_ son!”

A pause.

“Oh. . . ” the ambassador goes, awkward.  This is definitely a conversation he should not be privy to, but it feels like he's caught up in a silent game of tug-of-war between the two royals.  He can't just take his leave from Penelope—he was the one who challenged her to a chess match in the first place to earn a few points with her—but he also can't ignore the urgency in the king's voice, the panic vibrating from his body as he tries to hold himself still.      

Penelope just hums, paying no mind to any of this, still engrossed as ever in the game, balancing her knight piece in between her index and middle fingers.  

“Erm, your majesty—”

“Aha!”  Penelope exclaims suddenly, and with a flourish she slams her knight back onto the board, proudly declaring checkmate.  

Goddess, but this woman is  _good._

“Did you just hear what I said?” Aurelius demands, casting a shadow over their small table while he looms over her. “Our son is _gone_ , the new l’Cie could arrive at any moment, and you’re here playing fucking chess!  Pardon my language,” Aurelius adds quickly, nodding vaguely at the ambassador.

"N-none taken, your majesty," the other man manages in a small voice.  Goddess, what he would give for the floor to open up and swallow him.

“Aurelius darling, I heard you the first hundred times just like the _entire kingdom_ did,” Penelope answers with a roll of her eyes, smiling sweetly at the ambassador while she begins resetting the board, starting with white.  “Best two out of three, Pyxis?”

“Um,” the ambassador begins, before quickly shrinking into his seat when Aurelius trains that deadly glare on him. "My Lady—"

"I have to admit, it is refreshing to find some competition for once," Penelope continues, nodding her head carelessly in Aurelius' direction.  " _This_ one can't sit for two minutes before all the pieces are sent scattering from the table.  He's a sore loser, you see."

“Penelope," Aurelius warns through his teeth, face turning purple "so help me I will—”

A brisk knock on the door cuts off Aurelius, and he whips his head around, ready to explode on the bowing manservant who is. . .

. . . strangely just as _unaffected_ as Penelope is, but at this point Pyxis is willing to overlook this observation, grateful for the distraction he presents.

“Your majesties, ambassador Pyxis,” the man says formally, striding over to Queen Penelope after she beckons him forward.  

She's just finished with arranging the white pieces on the board and is now starting on the black.  “Did you find Cor?”

" _Cor_!" Aurelius sputters, and Pyxis flinches at the unnaturally high pitch.  "You're worried about  _Cor_ at a time like this, when your _own_ —" the deadly look he receives from the queen shuts him up instantly.   

Penelope turns back to the manservant.  "You were saying?"

“No sign of him, my lady.  We also searched his quarters, like you asked.”

“And?”

“Closets and dressers have been emptied.”

"Any note?"

"None, my lady."

“As I thought,” Queen Penelope mutters to herself, before forcing a smile. "Thank you, Arthur.  You may go."

'Arthur' bows and as swiftly as he arrives he is gone; shoes barely making a sound on the carpet when he makes his exit.  The room is filled with a quiet tension that is eventually broken when Aurelius, suddenly the epitome of calm, takes the seat beside Pyxis and turns the white pieces of the board toward him.  Pyxis takes that as his cue to escape, making an excuse about having indigestion and needing to lie down.  

"We'll see you at dinner then," Penelope tells him. 

"Of course, your majesty."

And then Pyxis is home free, silently exalting the heavens as the doors of the parlour room close softly behind him. 

***

"I'm not comfortable with this, Penelope," Aurelius murmurs, breaking the silence.

Penelope scoffs at this.  "And you think 'I' am?"

" _Don't_ patronize," Aurelius says, tone razor sharp, "you know bloody well what I mean."  

She touches his hand.  "He'll be _fine_.  I received word this morning from the Seeress herself.  They already knew not to send someone to us—everything was as expected."

"But _Regis_ ," Aurelius points out, pained, "with  _just_ Cor, Penelope?"

"If we send too many he'll stand out unnecessarily.  Cor is sufficient.  And stop acting as if we've sent him off to war," Penelope adds, exasperated—honestly, the man's incessant worrying is making her age faster. "Regis just wants life experience.  No amount of reading and studying can ever give you that.  I think it will be good for him, in the long run. He's bound to pick up a few negotiating and leadership skills here and there.  It's a step in the right direction for Lucis.  We've been isolated long enough."

"For _good reason_ , Penelope.  You know as well as I do that the tensions beginning to build between Bodhum and Tenebrae aren't rumors. Already there are talks about a Dissolvere.  What if Regis is caught in the middle of it all?  What if something—"

"Regis has a good head on his shoulders.  He's more responsible than either of us were at his age. Give him credit." 

Aurelius, against all the feelings in his gut does just that.  

***

Ten years later, on a chilly Wednesday morning, the king's heart almost stops at the sight that greets him when he comes down to breakfast: 

Regis has returned, world-weary and in one piece (and scarfing down food like its the last meal he'll ever have), but there are also new faces at the table. Beside Cor stands Duke—Rygdea, the name he later insists everyone refer to him by—the former l'cie of Tenebrae, fresh from the Dissolvere, looking every bit as uncomfortable as the circumstances, the _implications_ that his presence here in Lucis signifies.  

And yet, it isn't the l'cie who makes a grown man who has seen his fair share of death unsteady on his feet.  

It is the baby boy, fast asleep in Penelope's arms; a little over five months old, Aurelius guesses, a shock of black hair peeking out from the blankets he is swathed in.  

"Isn't he _beautiful_?" Penelope gushes, delighted at the prospect of a second chance at motherhood. "He has your chin, Aurelius!"

Aurelius says nothing, still looking at Regis. Waiting. 

"He's mine," Regis declares, through a mouthful of food, in answer to the question hanging off the tip of the king's tongue.  

"And the mother. . . ?" 

"Dead," Regis answers with a shrug.  Duke shifts uncomfortably in his seat, keeping his eyes down.

"I. . .see."  Aurelius slowly nods, and then, eyes rolling in the back of his head, passes out right on the dining room floor.

The boy is named Noctis, after Aurelius' grandfather. 

Noctis Lucis Caelum.


	19. In Memoriam [Part i]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young Noctis says good-bye for the first time.  
> [flashback chapter]

_“I love you.”_

Noctis is five years old when when he hears these words uttered in sadness and anger for the first time, and nothing is more terrifying or confusing to a child who has only ever heard them uttered in moments of celebration, moments of laughter.  It throws his entire world off kilter when he learns how such a beautiful phrase (beautiful, because of the way Rygdea smiles and says it back after Noctis plants a wet kiss on his cheek telling him good-night), so capable of creating so much happiness, and warmth-- can also be just as capable of causing so much hurt and pain.

He doesn’t know why Daddy’s so angry at Rygdea, why Daddy’s _crying_ at the same time as he says it: an endless stream of ‘I love you’s, over and over, begging him not to go. 

 _Go where?_ Noctis wonders.  _This is Rygdea’s home, too. Rygdea doesn’t have to go anywhere, Rygdea’s happy here_ —told Noctis so himself.  _Daddy’s being stupid again like Rygdea says.  Rygdea would never leave.  Where would he go, anyway?  Me and Daddy are the only family he has_ —Rygdea said so himself. 

Noctis wants to say all these things but he doesn’t; just keeps quiet, keeps his hands over his mouth so no one can hear him.  He’s playing hide and seek with Cor and Cor keeps winning too much and Noctis wants to win just this once.  Noctis will show him.  Cor will never find him curled in a tiny ball under Daddy’s desk because no one’s allowed in Daddy’s study except for Rygdea. 

And Cor never does find him, and Noctis eventually forgets about Cor because he’s never seen Daddy cry like this. 

Actually, Noctis has never seen Daddy cry _period._

Daddy _doesn’t_ cry.  But he _is_ , and seeing him sends Noctis’ squishy stomach into knots. It looks all _wrong_ , he doesn’t recognize Daddy _at all_ ; hiccuping and gasping out ‘I love you, please don’t go’ during the brief seconds of reprieve where he’s able to breathe normally; eyes and nose all red and blotchy;  shoulders heaving. 

But Rygdea, _Rygdea._

Rygdea is crying too, but he’s _smiling_ as well _,_ and his arms are wrapped around Daddy, holding him while Daddy’s world falls apart.  And it doesn’t make a lick of sense to Noctis: you can’t cry and smile at the same time.  

Maybe that’s why Daddy’s angry.  Maybe that’s why Daddy’s hugging Rygdea tight enough to rearrange Rygdea's bones.   Maybe it’s _Rygdea_ being stupid this time. 

“Regis,” Rygdea says.  “We knew this day would come.  The crystal—”

“To hell with the crystal!” Daddy almost shouts himself hoarse, hugging Rygdea even more fiercely than before, burying his face in the l’cie’s shoulder. “Noctis _needs_ you.”

“Regis—”

“ _I_ need you.”

And Rygdea falls into a desolate silence.

“We can run,” Daddy says desperately, pulling back just enough so he can see Rygdea’s face.  He squeezes his hands. “Tonight.  We’ll leave all of this behind, just the three of us.”

Rygdea lets out a laugh that is edged with bitterness, but five year old Noctis doesn’t catch it; just thinks Rygdea’s laughing and Daddy’s being _silly,_ again. “Where would we even _go_?”

“Anywhere, _I don’t fucking care_.” Daddy says, and Noctis’ eyes widen, barely managing to stifle the tiny ‘ _eep_!’ of surprise that almost gives him away.  He can’t believe it: Daddy’s just said the F-Word.  Daddy’s crying and he said the F-Word. Something is definitely amiss. “As long as we’re all together, it doesn’t matter,” Noctis hears Daddy say.  “You were right: we should have never come back.  I know that now.  But it's not too late; there’s still time.”

For a moment it’s almost as if Rygdea’s considering it, but then he closes his eyes, shaking his head, and Daddy’s face falls, _crushed_.  He touches the crystal attached to a pendant around his neck, and Daddy’s breath hitches all of a sudden.  “I’m done running, done _hiding_ ,” Rygdea says.  He sounds so tired, so weary.  So. . . _sad_.  But he’s still smiling.  It makes no sense.  “And you’re done _too_.  The life that was taken from the crystal. . . it needs to be given back.  If it isn’t—”

“Then you _live_ ,” Daddy interrupts, determined, voice beginning to rise. He shakes Rygdea by the shoulders.  “Then you _live_!  The world will come to an end whether you act or not!  All you l’cie are doing is just buying time—it’s all for nothing!”

“No it’s not,” Rygdea says softly.  He leaves Daddy, walking over to the desk where Noctis is hiding and crouches.  He shakes his head at Noctis, holding out his arms.  “Come on out buddy.”

Daddy makes a surprised sound.  “I didn’t even. . . _Noct_?”

“But Cor,” Noctis scowls, refusing to come out of his hiding spot.  

"Goddess," Daddy mutters.

“I won’t tell,” Rygdea says.

 Noctis holds out his pinky finger anyway, eyes shrewd.  “You promise?”

Rygdea nods and wraps his pinky around Noctis’, expression solemn.  “I _promise_.”

Perhaps it’s out of instinct, or a subconscious empathy from witnessing this whole scene between them, but Noctis wraps his arms around Rygdea’s neck like he’s seen Daddy do, while Rygdea carries him over.  “Don’t go,” he whispers, and Rygdea almost— _almost_ freezes.  

“It’s not ‘all for nothing’,” Rygdea tells Daddy, and Noctis feels him press a kiss into the crown of his head.  “ _He_ is not nothing.  Not while I have something to say, not while I have something _do_ about it.”

“I. . . “ but then Daddy finally gives in, wrapping his arms around the two of them tightly. “I love you.”

Noctis never remembers this conversation in the years to come, only the dreams.  Dreams of a woman he's never seen, never even met before.  He's wandering a forest when he hears singing, and he hurries toward the sound.  She's lying in the middle of the glade, one hand dangling the crystal necklace Rygdea always wears above her face as she studies it.

Hearing Noctis' clumsy footsteps, she sits up.  There's bits of grass and twig tangled up in her dark hair, but she doesn't care, and Noctis realizes he doesn't care either. For some reason he's so. . .inexplicably happy to see her.  There's something about her—something so _familiar_ in the way she smiles, something familiar in the way it feels to be around her that puts him at an ease that should set off some warning bells.  She's a stranger, she _has to be_ , Noctis thinks.  

But it feels like she isn't.

"Cat got your tongue?" she teases.  

And the dream ends.   

It’s only when Noctis is staring up along the length of Odin’s sword protruding from his chest, does the memory of his father's study flash before his eyes in perfect detail, it is only then does he finally understand what happened all those years ago.  The tears begin to fall, and in that instant the pain he feels has nothing to do with dying.  

It is his heart breaking, all over again. 


	20. In Memoriam [Part ii]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis is brave for the first time.  
> [flashback chapter]

Rygdea and Daddy fight a lot.  

Usually it's about Noctis, and usually Rygdea always wins (and Noctis loves him very much for that).  And he really hopes Rygdea wins the argument they're having right outside his bedroom door right now because he really doesn't want to fly all the way in Daddy's airship to Tenebrae to make nice with the Nox Fleuret girls.  Granny Penny says he's to marry one of them someday, and she's very excited (all the grown ups inside the palace are excited) but Noctis can't understand why.  Because Daddy _isn't_ married, and Daddy's _happy not being married_ , so why can't he be the same?

"Because Daddy's different," Granny Penny explains, ruffling Noctis' hair—just like how all the adults do when they get questions from Noctis that they can't seem to answer— "Daddy's _daddy_ , and Noctis is _Noctis_ , and the Nox Fleuret girls are cuter than a sackful of puppies, you'll see,"  she says, before shooing him so she can play more boring old chess and drink more of that gross brown stuff from the glass bottle she and Rygdea have to hide inside the piano because Granpappy and Daddy hate it.  

And Noctis agrees with Daddy and Grandpappy—he hates that stuff too: Rygdea let him try it once ('as long as you don't tell your old man', he warned) and it's absolutely  _foul_ , burning the insides of his mouth and tongue.  Granny Penny and Rygdea are stupid, sometimes.

“He’s going, Rygdea, and that’s _final_.”

At Daddy's tone, Noctis burrows deeper under the covers.  It's getting hot and sticky under here, but he really doesn't want to go. He's trying to do what Rygdea does when Rygdea doesn't want to go to the fancy dressy parties that Daddy makes him go to: fall asleep and accidentally wake up too late and blame it on the alarm clock.  Noctis doesn't have an alarm clock, but he does have Daddy's watch, so that's the same thing if Daddy asks.

_Please change Daddy's mind, please change Daddy's mind. . ._

“He doesn’t _want_ to go, Regis.”

“What does that matter?  He was invited— _he’s going_.  And we can’t just turn them down after I just sent word for them to expect us.  That would reflect badly on Lucis hospitality.”

“So bring up the Dissolvere," Rygdea says.  "Spout some political spiel about Bodhum not being comfortable with it.  Tell them it would be an. . .' _insult_ to the _relationship_ between Lucis and its l’cie'.” And then Rygdea chuckles, voice lowering. " _Relationship_ , hehe, see what I did there?"

Noctis doesn't but Daddy does, because he hears Rygdea yelp in pain. Daddy's probably pulling him by the ear again. 

“The Dissolvere excuse would work _if_ the entire world didn't know you were _excommunicated_ from Bodhum in the first place.”

Excommunicated.  It has to be a bad thing from the way Daddy says it, Noctis thinks.

“First of all, it’s not excommunication if it’s just _one_ l’cie who wants my ass dead and buried.” 

There's a long pause that follows, long enough that it makes Noctis sit up, peering curiously out from under the covers.  Are they gone?  

"What?" Rygdea says finally.

“What do you mean ' _what_ '? I was waiting for the second point.”

“Oh, I don’t have a second,” and Rygdea laughs. “That was actually my strongest and _only_ point.  Ow! Stop hitting me—what kind of example are you trying to set in front of your son?”

“You’re an idiot."

“No, _you’re the_ idiot, forcing his very, very, _very_ shy son to interact with _complete strangers_.  You're just going to make him even more shy.  Keep forcing him to do things he _clearly_ _doesn't_ want to do and he'll hate you for it.”

"No he won't, my parents did the same thing to me—look how I turned out."

" _That_ ," Rygdea points out with a laugh, "is _exactly_ my point.  Ow! Regis I _swear_.  Hit me one more time and I'll make out with you in this hallway where people can see—you know I'd do it."

"Noct's going and that's _final_."

"Uh-huh," Rygdea remains as unconvinced as ever, "Good luck with that."

“Noct needs to socialize with people in his own age bracket.  It’s unhealthy for him, not wanting to see the outside world, expand his horizons.”

“What do you mean 'Noctis needs to socialize?" Rygdea scoffs. "Noct  _does_ socialize.  He's got Gladiolus and Ignis and that little firecracker—what’s his face—Prompto."

"I mean with  _girls_ , Rygdea.  So far the only female influence in his life is my mother, and that's frankly worrying."

"Ooh, I'm telling Penelope that you said that!"

"Sure, right after I tell her that you _let her win_ in every chess game."

"Low blow, Regis.  Also, aren't there little girls in Lucis? Why do you have to fly all the way to Tenebrae?" And before Daddy can get a word in edgewise, Rygdea adds, "and for Goddess' _sake_ give the whole 'expanding horizons' speech a rest. Speaking as someone who has their horizons well and _truly_ expanded—it's a load of crap. The world we live in is shitty and sad.  Noctis is a smart kid, wanting to stay inside.  And did it slip your mind that he's only  _five_?  Why so eager to kick him out of the house?"

"Because we need to foster better ties with our _neighbors_ , _Rygdea_ ,” Daddy replies witheringly. 

“Ehh neighbor—shmaybor.  It’s a glorified  _playdate,_ Regis. Read between the lines.”

“I _am_ reading between the lines: it’s an  _opportunity_.  We _need_ this, Rygdea.  The people need this.  They're of two minds about our ties with Tenebrae.  We have to show them that l'cie affairs and politics are separate."

"Except they're _not_ , Regis," and there is no trace of humor in Rygdea's tone as he whispers that—actually, there's no trace of  _anything_ in Rygdea's tone as he says it. It is the truth, stripped down to its bare-bones, free of all the insidious, pretty words people dress it up in to distract from it.  And the truth is as Rygdea says: l'cie and politics will _always_ go hand in hand; an important lesson Noctis will learn the hard way in the years to come.

"If you go to Tenebrae," Rygdea continues, quietly "understand that I can't go with you, can't _protect_ you.  My enemies in Tenebrae have become your enemies."

"Duke-"

"I'd follow you to the edges of Hell, Regis, but this is one place I can't. There's not a lot of space for forgiveness on both sides.  I can't go back after what they did to me, what they drove _her_ to do."

"I. . . understand."

The world outside Noctis' door stops—as it always does when Rygdea and Daddy reach a stalemate. And the longer the silence stretches, the more it makes Noctis angry.  He doesn't understand what they're talking about, but he does understand fear, and he hates how scared Daddy sounds and how scared Rygdea sounds in that moment.  They're supposed to be the grown-ups. Grown-ups aren't supposed to be afraid.  

 _"And when you're afraid, there's only one thing left to do; one thing you can do,"_ Daddy always says, " _and that is to be_ brave _.  No matter how scary that sounds.  That's what courage is, Noct._ "  

Noctis has to be brave for the both of them. Noctis will  _be_ brave for the both of them.  Because Granny Penny's right: Daddy and Rygdea can be 'complete dunderheads at the worst of times'.   

The door slowly creaks open but the adults stare as if he's wrenched it right off its hinges.  

Rygdea is the first to react, quickly dropping to Noctis' level, blue eyes filled with concern.  "You alright buddy?"

Noctis shrugs Rygdea's hand off his shoulder and takes a deep breath, squeezing Daddy's watch in his hand for comfort.  

"Son?" Daddy says, lowering himself beside Rygdea.  "What is it?"

In the clearest, most bravest voice Noctis can manage he says:

"Let's go to Tenebrae."


	21. In Memoriam [Part iii]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis goes to Tenebrae for the first time.  
> [flashback chapter]

When Noctis is twenty he grows to appreciate Tenebrae for its stunning architecture and its rich history, particularly with regard to the gods.  But twenty is a long way away at the moment—he's five—and the only history with Tenebrae that a (very, very, _very_ ) shy five year-old boy is interested in is reaching the end of this sixth birthday party as quickly and as _painlessly_ as possible.  

What Granny Penny said about 'puppies' makes him baffled.  The Nox Fleuret sisters look _nothing_ like puppies.  They're _girls_. They look like girls, dress like girls, act like girls. Granny Penny _really_ needs to lay off on that brown stuff; it's making her senile. 

Senile. That's Grand-Pappy's favorite word to use whenever he sees her with a glass in hand. He tells Noctis he says it to her 'out of love', but it drives Granny Penny _bonkers_ and Noctis figures if he says it enough times like Grand-Pappy does, she'll eventually give up on the yucky stuff she and Rygdea like so much.  

***

Granny Penny doesn't.  She really  _doesn't_ —senile old bat—not even when she's on her deathbed, succumbing to liver failure, and _laughing_ about it  while Grand-Pappy is at her bedside with Noctis crying, like everyone else, and fighting the urge to _strangle_ her.

'Life's too short, jelly bean,' she'd rasped, eyes faraway and getting farther and farther; grip on Noctis' hand beginning to loosen. 'Live your life in the present, love the things you love in the present.  Don't worry so much.  The future will take care of itself.  It's you who has to take care of the present.'

Sure, Granny.

***

Anyway the Nox Fleuret girls.  

Their names are Lunafreya ('Luna' for short, Lunafreya told him while he kissed her hand, politely as-you-please, like he and Daddy had rehearsed) and Stella ('just' Stella, the other sister had shrugged when he kissed hers).  They're fraternal twins ('fraternal means they don't look alike', Daddy explained) and they're _taller_ than him—it's weird.  They're nice enough, he could possibly be friends with them, but it's a bit hard.  Luna's clever for her age, says all these big words Noctis can't pronounce, let alone _spell_ , and Stella's 'a fencing prodigy who could probably give Rygdea a run for his money someday', Daddy tells Lady Fleuret.  Noctis has to stand there and pretend he doesn't hear all this but he does and it _hurts_ , hearing Daddy say that about Rygdea. 

Daddy's being stupid, he _has_ to be.  Rygdea is super strong _and_ fast—a thousand times faster than Stella.  He could probably take her _blindfolded_ , too; Noctis has seen him in the sparring circle with Cor.  He's the best l'cie in the whole wide world.  He makes Noctis laugh, _never_ makes him cry, and it's almost like Daddy can't even _see_ that.  

(Well, _fine_. If Daddy loves Tenebrae so much he should just _live_ there, then.  Noctis and Rygdea will go back to Lucis without him.)

Stella, the older twin, she's the one Noctis is supposed to marry. But she's taller than Noctis, just by an inch, and he's very conscious of it especially when the other kids point it out, so _that's_ off-putting.  She also asks more questions than he can keep up with—not like Luna, and he quite likes Luna: she's sweet and gentle but Luna's only interested in playing with Gentiana—and it makes him even more upset.  He wants Rygdea to take him away from this stupid, horrible party.  The boys his age are cruel: they tease Noctis, call him 'girly' and 'weird', refusing to let him play until he shows them the Lucis l'cie.  And he would, he really would, but Rygdea's nowhere to be found, nowhere to be seen, and that stings more than listening to Daddy talk up the Nox Fleuret girls, it really does.

Because Rygdea promised that he was coming—'just in a different car'—but he _lied_ , didn't he?  He's _not here_ , he 'doesn't exist' like the other kids say, and it makes Noctis' stomach ache, and his chest hurt, and his hands all clammy and sweaty.  He doesn't feel safe _at all_ without Rygdea around, with all these kids who know _nothing_ about him, making up all these mean stories about Rygdea and Daddy that are _just not true; s_ aying that Rygdea and Daddy are 'destined to catch 'Holy Hell' at the rate they're going'.  

He wants to go back to Lucis and forget ever stepping foot into this mean country that Lucis is supposed to make friends with.  Because being brave is not worth it; not if it means standing there and smiling politely while the other kids stamp all over your self-esteem and make fun of the things you love, the _people_ you love.   He wants to go home _now,_ not 'later' like Daddy promises, nervously, every time Noctis wanders over to the adult's table.  Lady Fleuret laughs and says he's 'so cute', every time and Daddy is always very red in the face when he shoos him away, like Noctis has just embarassed him. It makes him want to scream. 

(But he doesn't.)

He decides to find a place to hide when it quickly becomes clear that 'later' is never going to come. There's an empty table at the edge of the garden where the party's being held and he crawls under, leaving just a small opening in the table cloth so he can see Daddy. For the better part of an hour he just lies there in this sanctuary he's created for himself, staring blankly at nothing, listening to everyone laughing and talking outside _._ No one's going to bother him anymore; no ones going to find him, he thinks. 

Until someone does.  

In the corner of his eye the table cloth parts like a curtain, and then Stella's looking at him, head tilted, violet eyes curious.  

"What are you doing?"

"I'm sleeping."

"No you're not," Stella giggles.  He has to sit up and make space when she forces herself inside, sitting across from him and hugging her knees to her chest like he is.  Her dress is going to get dirty, Noctis wants to say, but she doesn't look like she cares.  

"Fine I'm not sleeping because you're distracting," Noctis tells her.  

***

('Distracting'. He's proud of that one. Daddy says it's what Rygdea is every time he catches the l'cie 'gossiping' with the house servants instead of doing any work, or letting them  _do_ any work.)

 

***

"We're going to play hide and seek, do you want to play?  King Regis says it's your favorite."

(It _is_ Noctis' favorite, but only when he plays with Cor because Cor doesn't make fun of him.)  Noctis shakes his head, fiddling with a stick he'd found, tracing patterns into the dirt.  "I don't feel like playing hide and seek."

"Well, what  _do_ you feel like playing?"

Noctis shrugs and keeps drawing. After hide and seek the list ends there, but he doesn't want to risk telling Stella that; she might laugh at him and if she does he just might cry.  Even though he can't cry, because he promised Rygdea he wouldn't.

"I heard your father saying you want to join the Royal Guard," Stella says.  "I think it's very noble of you."

"Yeah. . . so?"

"So you'll need to know how to fight, right?"

"I guess," Noctis mumbles.

"No, there's no guessing," Stella says in a slightly scolding tone,  like she knows more than him (probably does; she knows how to spell 'antidisestablishmentarianism') "It's the Royal Guard: you  _have_ to know how to fight."

"Fine, I ' _have to know how to fight_ '," Noctis mimics her know-it-all tone perfectly. "So?" 

"So I could teach you," Stella offers, smiling, and even though she's a girl, Noctis sits up straighter anyway, heart pounding wildly in his chest. No one in Lucis has ever offered to teach him; no one's _allowed_.  But he's not in Lucis anymore; he's in Tenebrae, so. .  .

"Is that a yes?" Stella asks.  

Noctis wants to say it is, but Daddy _hates_ fighting; only does it when he  _has to_ , so Noctis is not allowed anywhere near swords or guns or weapons of any kind.  He's never forgotten the one time Rygdea had finally summoned his lance, just to let Noctis have a look--not touch, he'd told Daddy, but Daddy had _exploded_.  

 _"Have you lost your_ mind _?! I_ told _you I didn't want him growing up anywhere_ near _any of this!"_ Daddy had screamed, eyes glowing red. _"None of this, you hear me?!_ Goddamnit _Rygdea what the hell is wrong with you--he's just a_ child _!"_

"I can't," Noctis says, eyes downcast.  Once was enough for Rygdea to learn, and Noctis, too.   He doesn't want Stella to get in trouble.

"Why not?"

"I'm not allowed.  Daddy says it's dangerous; he doesn't want me to get hurt." But also because Daddy is so _scary_ when he's angry, and Noctis doesn't want him to scare Stella away; not when Daddy wants them to become friends and get married. 

"Oh," Stella says, disheartened, but then her eyes suddenly light up and she leans forward eagerly, hands braced on her knees for balance.  "Sticks!"

"Huh?"

"What about sticks?  We could practice with sticks, right?  Sticks aren't dangerous."

"I. . . guess?" Noctis says, hesitant.   _Daddy didn't say anything about sticks._

"Well come on, then," Stella says, beginning to crawl back outside.  "No time to waste!"

***

'Later' arrives much sooner after that.  

Probably not as soon as the bruises, the little scrapes on his elbows and knees, but Noctis doesn't mind.  Stella's a good teacher.  She doesn't treat him like he's made of glass _like everyone else does_ , so he's grateful to her for that.  It makes him feel. . . normal.  He likes that feeling. 

She gives him a kiss on the cheek good-bye and it makes his face heat up and the adults laugh heartily.  He asks Lady Fleuret, _shyly_ , if they have to get married now.  Lady Fleuret just exchanges a look with Daddy and smiles, saying it's up to Stella, so he turns back to her.  Stella just flashes him a toothy grin and flicks him in the forehead and tells him to ask her when he's _taller_.  

Hmph.  Noctis will show her.  

And Noctis does show her, years later, but that's not important right now.   What's important is that he's covered in a thick layer of dirt that is going to make bath time a _nightmare_ , but that Daddy's _smiling_ in spite of it, and doesn't stop smiling in the car when Cor's driving them back to the airship.  

Grown-ups are weird.  

"Did you have fun, son?" 

Noctis is sprawled in the back seat, head resting in Daddy's lap.  "Yeah," he yawns. 

"I'm so proud of you, you know that?" Daddy whispers, brushing Noctis' fringe out of his eyes. Noctis yawns again.  "Really proud of you.  You made so many friends today."

"No, just Stella."

"Well, 'just' Stella is plenty," Daddy laughs, ruffling his hair.  "And hey, maybe we can invite her and Luna over to Lucis.  You can show them around, how's that sound?"

Noctis is just about to answer when the car in front of them suddenly explodes, a blinding eruption of flame that has twisted metal flying everywhere, and Cor quickly swerving the car into a ditch so they don't crash into it.  Half a second later, a hailstorm of bullets rain at them on all sides, but Daddy's faster before the bullet proof glass shatters.  There's gunfire, there's screaming, more explosions.  And then the entire world is suddenly a blur, a wind is whipping at his face, forcing Noctis to close his eyes. 

When he opens them again he's in Cor's arms and Cor's running, fast as he can while Noctis screams, watching Daddy hang back to fend off the assault.  There's just too many of them and they're closing in, and where is stupid Rygdea?! 

_You promised to protect us!_

_"_ Rygdea where are you! " Noctis screams.  There's a stabbing pain in the centre of his chest, but--"Rygdea! Daddy's going to die if- you don't--"

And somehow, _somehow_ over the span of thousands of kilometres away, _somehow. . ._

. . . Rygdea hears him.

There's a blinding flash of light.  Suddenly Daddy's right in front of Noctis, disoriented and confused, having been ejected out of battle.  

A new presence has entered the fray, a great black blur moving through the enemy lines, jaws snapping wildly, tearing everyone limb from limb, giving no quarter, not even to those who drop their weapons in surrender.  There's scattered gunfire everywhere, but no one's able to hit it.  By the time the screaming stops the entire road is _painted_ red with blood and entrails, cars have been turned over and streetlights are bent or sliced in half.  The black blur finally stills and then dissipates.  Rygdea is left standing in the bloody epicenter of its wake, panting and drenched completely in blood, blue eyes glowing brightly in the darkness. 

"An eidolon," Cor says, setting Noctis down because the danger has passed.  Still, Noctis sways unsteadily on his feet. 

"But _how_?" Daddy says.  

"Daddy it hurts," Noctis says, weakly, staring down at his chest. An angry red blotch has appeared in the middle of his dress shirt and is rapidly spreading.  Daddy catches him as he's falling.

"Noct!"

***

He wakes up hours later in bed, touching his chest, feeling nothing but smooth skin beneath his pajamas, wondering if it was all a dream.  At the foot of the bed, Daddy's body is slumped across, fast asleep and snoring softly.  From a chair in the corner Rygdea smiles as he stands and walks over.  He looks pale despite the soft yellow glow of Noctis' bedside lamp. Maybe he's just tired, Noctis thinks.  

"How you feeling, buddy?"

"I had a dream about you," Noctis breathes, excited.  

Rygdea sits on the bed, ruffling his hair.  "You did?" 

"You were a wolf."

"A wolf?" Rygdea shakes his head.  

"Yeah. A really _big_ black wolf. And your eyes were all glowy and you had really sharp teeth and you killed all the bad guys and--"

"And you weren't scared?" Rygdea interrupts, one eyebrow raised.

"Course not," Noctis grins. 

"Why not?"

"Because I needed you and you _came_."

And the smile that breaks across Rygdea's face when he hears that is like watching the sun rise.  He pulls Noctis into a hug, pressing a kiss into the crown of his hair.  

"Always, buddy.  _Always_."


	22. 'Always' [In Memoriam]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the complexities of loving a l'cie.  
> [flashback chapter]

The _promittere_ is beautiful: a sideways figure eight curving elegantly across tanned skin on the back of Rygdea's right shoulder.  Before every battle the l'cie has a habit of pressing a kiss into his index and middle fingers and then reaching back to trace over it--like its a favor he's received from one of Mother's many ladies in waiting--in a way that is both downright infuriating and erotic.  Infuriating, because Rygdea is insufferably arrogant at the worst of times. Erotic, because. . . 

. . . well, because it's _Rygdea;_ because he's _l'cie_.  There's always been something enticing, something seductive, Regis cannot deny, about the unattainable.  The whole decade he spent away is proof positive of that; the pull he feels toward Rygdea, the hunger he had for adventure back then—is no different.  

"There are rules, Regis," Aurelius said.  "L'cie cannot love humans.  Doing so turns their eyes away from the Goddess, from the Focus."

"Yes, father. I understand."  

Regis really does, _painfully_ , from the moment he wakes up, to the moment he collapses face-first into bed.  

L'cie can only love other l'cie.  And Rygdea's heart, Rygdea's _soul_ —already belongs to another. 

***

In the arena below, the battle between l'cie finally ends.  

Rygdea emerges; bruised and bloody, but victorious.  He grins up at Regis, two spirited thumbs up while Hope lies groaning (and possibly swearing) on the ground behind him.  Regis--as much as he wants to send a thumbs up back--can only nod and smile reservedly in return: there are people watching their every move.  The smile on Rygdea's face dims, but only briefly.  In the only way he knows how to deal with frustration, the l'cie just throws his head back and laughs.  He has enough wisdom and patience from the centuries to understand where the boundaries of Regis' gilded cage lies. 

Ignoring the nervous glances of Mother and Father, the crown prince sits, exhausted to his very bones. 

***

"I thought you wanted me."  

Rygdea's head is tilted as if it will make him understand Regis better.

"I _do_ ," Regis mumbles, feeling pathetic.  His hands are fisted in Rygdea's jacket, his breathing ragged from forcing the kiss to an abrupt end.  "I _do_ want you."

"But?" 

Regis hates when Rygdea makes him spell things out for him.  "But I can't _have_ you," he says, angry.  "At least not in the way that _you_ want.  I've learnt my lesson."  

Rygdea exhales quietly through his nose at this. "I understand." He's moving away as he says it, back into the moonlight, away from the corner he'd steered Regis into, and then he keeps going. Back, back back until he hits the concrete balustrade.  He turns, two hands planted on the balcony railing.  "You're jealous, aren't you," he says softly.

"Rygdea-"

"You have _no right_ to be."  Without waiting for a reply, he vaults into the darkness.  

Regis listens as he shifts in mid-air, winces at the sound of his bones cracking as they expand, the sound of Rygdea's skin tearing, the low growl Fenrir makes when he lands, heavily on the ground with a _thud_.  He's a black shadow moving stealthily across the lawn, up and over the palace walls; into the night in the space of a heartbeat before the guards are any wiser.

"I'm sorry," Regis whispers into the night.  He returns to the coronation, forcing a brave smile as pain lances through his heart.

It's like losing Noct's mother all over again.

***

'Always', like innocence, does not last forever.  It is a truth of this world Regis futilely (selfishly) fights tooth and nail to protect Noctis from for as long as he can.  

But the day comes, and as the Goddess would have it, much sooner than he wants.  It is a cold, spring morning, colder than the one that brought Rygdea to Lucis in the first place, and there are figures missing from the table. Father refuses to leave his bed and Mother. . .

. . . Mother is elbow-deep in negotiations with Bodhum, fighting for the right to bury Rygdea here in Lucis.  Regis doubts she's going to get anywhere.  Put it simply Cid Raines despises him.  The kicker though, is that Raines is not—from the stories Rygdea's told him—the kind of man who screams and yells when he's angry.   Rather he's the kind of man who can leave you weak-kneed and ill in the stomach with a single whisper:

"First my sister—my own _flesh and blood_ , my _twin_ , and now _him_. Does your penchant toward the damnation of others know no end?"

Regis quietly gets up and leaves the conference room without another word.

***

Even after the l'cie leave, Regis does not breathe easy.  

Around him the palace staff go about their daily duties, cold and detached, as if nothing happened.  Their unwillingness to openly discuss Rygdea makes him even more acutely aware of the shift, the paradoxical weight that loss leaves in its wake.  Rygdea is  _everywhere_ Regis turns, smirk reflected in the windows, uproarious laughter echoing in the corridors—but it's not why Regis is on edge.  There's only one person in Lucis who doesn't know, one person in Lucis who _deserves_ to know, more than anyone else—one person who never got the chance to say _good-bye_.  

His entire body stills when he finally feels it: the soft, insistent tugging at his sleeve that is a hot knife to the stomach.  

"Daddy where's Rygdea?"


	23. In Memoriam [Part iv]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis has dreams he can't understand. Regis takes him to see an old friend.  
> [flashback]

Regardless of whether the dreams begin  _in medias res_  or  _ab ovo_ the end result is always the same: with Noctis waking the palace in the dead of night; screaming and then crying uncontrollably in his father’s arms when Regis is finally able to rouse him. He's nine—the age of development where a child is meant to let go of the fear of monsters under the bed, and Noctis actually _wishes_  some days that it _were_ monsters he was seeing.  Monsters at least, are easier to understand than people. 

"Son,  _please_ ," Regis' voice breaks a little as Noctis burrows into his chest for warmth, entire body shaking while his father pulls a blanket over them.  "I want to help.  Talk to me."

"No, it's okay," Noctis' voice is muffled.  "I don't want to."  He doesn't see the frown his father makes, but he hears it clearly in his tone; feels it in the way he smooths Noctis' hair. 

"Son it's  _not_ okay.  You’re not eating properly, Headmaster Rosch says you fall asleep in class—how about if we go see Arecia again?  She helped you last time, remember?”

Noctis shakes his head vigorously, as if the effort will help him forget that suggestion. 

Regis heaves a sigh.  “Noct—”

“ _No_.  I _don’t_ want to see her.” 

“But you were doing so well with her.”

Because he was _pretending_ to, because he didn’t want his father worrying.  The medicine Dr. Arecia prescribed had been _no_ help at all; if anything they’d made the dreams even more lucid.  He sits back on the bed, shaking his head.  “Dad, _no_.  I don’t want to.  Please don’t make me go.” 

“ _Goddess_ ,” Regis mutters, running a hand through his hair.  There are dark circles under his eyes.  

“I’m sorry,” Noctis can’t help but say.

“ _No_.” Regis’ tired tone is suddenly stern.  His larger hands are warm as they cover his, squeezing gently, but firmly.  When Noctis looks up he sees deep blue eyes that are clear and resolute.  “There’s no need to be sorry, Noct,” Regis tells him. “Absolutely _no_ need.  These dreams you've been having--they're not your fault.  Come on, say it: 'it’s not my fault'.”

“It’s not my fault,” Noctis says, softly.

“Again," Regis urges, "like you mean it.”

“It’s not my fault.” Noctis’ voice shakes, but it’s clearer and louder this time.

“ _Much better_ ,” Regis says.  He helps Noctis back into bed, tucking the covers around him. (Noctis has given up on insisting he can do it himself).  “Do you need me to lie down with you?”   

“No, I think I’ll be okay now.”

“You sure?” Regis has one eyebrow raised, one side of his mouth quirking upward. “I promise I won’t tell Stella—”

Noctis socks him square in the face with a pillow, cheeks reddening. “ _Dad!_ ”

“Always so sensitive,” Regis says, laughing.  Inflamed, Noctis continues swatting at him, not letting up even as his hands shoot up in surrender.  Regis slides off the bed onto his feet. “Alright, alright I’m going, I’m _going_.  My door’s open if you need me, okay?”

“Okay.  And Dad?” he adds, just when Regis reaches the door, one hand on the light switch.

“Hm?” Regis asks, turning. 

“You. . .” Noctis takes a deep breath. “You promise you won’t send me to see a shrink?”

“I promise.  But—”

“ _Dad_ —”

Regis holds up a hand.  “Wait, let me finish.  I know someone, Noct—not a shrink, promise,” he adds, when Noctis scowls. “I met him during my travels and we’ve been great friends ever since.  He’s a very good listener and offers some sound advice.  Maybe you could talk to him?"

" _Daaad_ —"

"Just _one_ visit, Noct.  Come on, what do you say?”

Noctis pauses to consider it for a moment and then he nods.  “Alright.   _One_ visit.”

***

The ‘house’ Cor pulls up to the following afternoon is actually an estate; huge iron automated gates sliding open to let them in.  As they proceed along a winding cobblestoned driveway, Noctis can’t help but stare outside, mouth gaping slightly.  He’s not used to seeing so much greenery in Lucis and in such a huge space, too.  He’s only ever played in Grand-Pappy’s rose maze up until now and as beautiful as the roses are in summer, it really does not hold a candle to the large willows arching overhead, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze, the tranquil feeling that they invoke deep within himself.   It’s almost as if the dreams that haunt his every night have ceased to exist. 

Cor starts to protest when Noctis eagerly rolls down the windows, proceeding to stick _half his body_ outside, but a stern look from Regis in the rear-view mirror quickly silences the man. 

It’s _so_ good to see Noctis smiling again. 

***

A young man-- _probably about twenty_ , Noctis guesses--answers the door on the first knock with a smile and a slight bow of his head.  There’s an inhuman gracefulness to the way he moves, reminiscent of the willow trees.   

“Dajh,” Regis announces (probably for Noctis’ benefit).  He offers a hand.  “So good to see you.”

“Likewise your majesty, your highness,” he says, shaking Regis’ hand and then Noctis’ in turn. Noctis barely pays attention as the pleasantries are exchanged; too intrigued by the tattoo the man has on the back of his right hand.  Noctis has the odd feeling that he’s seen it somewhere, but Dajh is already telling them to follow him inside. 

They proceed through a series of hallways, there’s a few sharp turns here and there, up a few flights of stairs—‘sorry, my father says lifts are wasteful’, Dajh laughs, hearing them panting and grunting behind him—and then they’re outside again, stepping out onto a balcony that gives a breath-taking view of the entire estate and Insomnia just beyond the walls that enclose it. 

In the corner at a long table an older man has his back to them, headphones covering his ears, humming to himself while he prunes what Noctis is sure is a miniature tree inside a pot.  Dajh invites them to sit at a table laden with sandwiches and cakes, tea and cordial, before he approaches the other man— _has to be his dad_ , Noctis thinks—gently touching his elbow.

The older man turns, but so suddenly that Noctis almost jumps out of his skin-- _he moves so fast_.  He chucks his gardening gloves and in the blink of an eye he’s right in front of Regis, hugging him tight enough that Noctis is certain he doesn’t imagine the sound of bones cracking.  

“Regis!” He booms, voice rich with genuine warmth and pleasure. “Long time no see.”

“Much too long, Sazh,” Regis returns, hugging him back before nodding at Noctis. 

“Is this. . . ?” Sazh doesn’t finish the question, but Noctis’ father nods in perfect understanding. 

“It is.” There’s pride in Regis’ voice. “Noctis, say hello.”

“Hello,” Noctis answers robotically, feeling uncomfortable when Sazh leans in close to scrutinize him. “Uh. . . ”

“ _Goddess_ ,” Sazh’s tone is reverent, dark brown eyes full of wonder.  “He looks _just like her_.  And thank goodness for that,” he adds with a whisper, nudging Noctis. 

"I'm standing right here, you know," Regis says, cheeks turning pink.

***

It takes Noctis a while to trust Sazh enough to open up to him, but Regis is right when he finally does: the man makes for a brilliant sounding board. Half the time Noctis is sure he’s too absorbed in pruning his beloved _bonsai_ to pay attention to what he’s saying, but Sazh catches every word.  They’re lying on lounge chairs beneath the shade of a wide umbrella, watching the clouds a few hours later when Noctis finally decides to come clean.

“So I’ve been having these. . . dreams,” he begins, softly.


	24. Correspondence [In Memoriam]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation between fathers.   
> [flashback chapter]

**From:** skatzroy@bonsai.org  
**To** : rc113@lucismail.com  
**Subject** : (not) Dreams  
**Attachments:** nlc.mp3; nlctranscript.txt

Regis.

Noctis isn't losing his mind. 

They're _memories_ , not dreams.  Good thing you asked me to record it.  Makes sense why he wouldn't tell you.  

Get back to me once you've had a listen.  There's something else I need to send you.  

-Sazh.

P.S. Noctis asked if he could visit again tomorrow after school.  I'm fine with that so long as you are.  He's got quite the sweet tooth, your boy.  Wonder where he gets it from (ha!).

 

 

* * *

 

 

For awhile Regis hears nothing but the sound of the minute hand on his watch--slowly ticking toward midnight--while he sits frozen with his hand on the mouse, cursor hovering above the audio file on his computer screen.  

_Noctis isn't losing his mind._

Finding a set of earphones from his desk drawer he plugs them in and takes a second to breathe deeply before hitting PLAY.  He closes his eyes as the sound of his son's voice fills his ears.  

It's quiet, and introspective, just like  _hers._

 

* * *

 

**nlctranscript.txt**

 

 **Noctis** : Sometimes it starts off with dad's l'cie--Rygdea. There's a woman with him.  She's. . . 

 **Sazh** : Pretty?

 **Noctis** : Why does that matter?

 **Sazh** : She's pretty isn't she?

 **Noctis** : (softly) She's beautiful.

 **Sazh** : What's she look like?

 **Noctis** : Uh. . . she looks like a woman?

 **Sazh:** What's that mean?

 **Noctis** : It _means_ she looks like a woman.  

 **Sazh** : Come on, Noct, describe her to me.  I want to see what you're seeing.  Plus Dajh here’s quite the artist.  He'll try to sketch what it is you're seeing.

 **Dajh** : Mm-hmm.

 **Noctis** : Alright.  Well. . . her hair's short, but not too short--it stops just a little bit below her neck. 

 **Sazh** : Ahh so mid-length.

 **Noctis** : Mid-length?

 **Sazh** : That's what you call that type of length of hair.

 **Noctis** : Oh. . . 

 **Sazh** : What color's her hair?"

 **Noctis** : Why do you want to know so much about her?

 **Sazh** : Because  _you_  corrected me and said she's beautiful when I asked if she was ‘pretty’.

 **Noctis** : So?

 **Sazh** : So 'pretty' and 'beautiful' are two _very_ specific ways to describe a person, Noct.  From my experience people tend to use 'beautiful' if there's an emotional connection.  It's the word you use when 'pretty' just don't cut it.  When you see something beautiful all your senses are affected.  Your world gets a little bit bigger, a little more colorful. It touches an old memory perhaps, something happy usually.  When I walk down the street and  see someone pretty, my mind goes: oh wow that person's pretty.  When I see someone _I_ think is  _beautiful_ , my mind just. . .it just  _goes_.  Poof. Completely blank.  You can’t help but forget what you’re doing.  That's what you did just now when you corrected me.  So naturally I'm curious.

 **Noctis:** Oh. . . 

 **Sazh** : So, what color’s her hair?”

 **Noctis** : It’s dark brown, a bit spiky at the ends, it’s pretty messy.  She looks like a wild animal.  

 **Sazh:** What color’s her eyes?

 **Noctis** : Violet.

 **Sazh** :  Are you sure?

 **Noctis** : I’ve only seen her a _thousand_ times.

 **Sazh** : (laughs) Feisty.  Well alright then, Dajh, you heard the man.  So in your dream.  Her and Rygdea.  What’s happening?

 **Noctis** : They’re running.  Soldiers are chasing them through a desert.  Army cars, even a tank. And there’s a helicopter following from the sky.  It’s night time.  I think the woman knows she could escape on her own if she wanted to, but only if she leaves Rygdea behind.

 **Sazh** : Why should she leave Rygdea behind?

 **Noctis** : Because he looks really pale and sick.  There’s a huge hole in the middle of his chest--there's blood everywhere.  She stops every so often to try to heal him with magic, but I don’t think it does any good. It’s like there’s something missing.

 **Sazh** : Something missing?  What makes you say that?

 **Noctis** : I dunno, I just _feel_ like there is.  Can we move on?

 **Sazh** : Of course.  Do you want a drink?

 **Noctis** : No thank you.

 **Sazh** : Ahh so polite. You really are your father’s son.  So what happens next?

 **Noctis** : The soldiers catch up. They come at Rygdea and the woman from all sides.  The helicopter lands.  There’s a man in a white suit—he must be their leader. I can’t really see the top half of his face.  'The empire thanks you for your services,' he tells Rygdea.  He points.  There has to be something on his hand underneath his glove.  

 **Sazh** : Why do you say that?

 **Noctis** : Because I can see a red glow coming through the material.  And Rygdea—he just suddenly stands, like he's not weak and dying anymore.  I don’t even think he’s awake. He looks like a zombie. His eyes are open but I don't think he's really looking at anything.  Just staring straight ahead. The woman, she tries to wake Rygdea, tries slapping his face, even tries shaking him but it doesn’t help.  He just keeps standing there, staring at the man like he’s waiting. And the man smiles.  

'Kill her,' he says.

 **Sazh** : I. . . see. And Rygdea, he does exactly as the man says, doesn't he.

 **Noctis** : Yeah. He puts his hands around her throat.  She's crying, yelling, trying to make him wake up.  But he doesn't hear her.  He starts. . . I dunno,  _changing_.

 **Sazh** : Changing. . . 

 **Noctis** : Into stone.  His entire body--everything is turning into stone.  And the woman while he chokes her, her eyes are rolling in the back of her head; I think she's going to pass out.  Everything starts to get blurry after that.  I don't know why she doesn't even try to fight him off; I bet she could.

 **Sazh** : Maybe she doesn't want to hurt him.

 **Noctis** : Maybe.  Just as her eyes start closing, there's an explosion--out of nowhere.  The fire from it--it's like it's alive or has a mind of its own or something.  It shoots after the soldiers, burning every one of them alive.  They try shooting but they don't hit anything.  The man's in the helicopter now; he's getting away.  The fire--it's only for a second, but i'm sure there's a red knight standing in the middle of all the flames--it gathers into a ball and shoots after the helicopter, like a comet.

 **Sazh** : (chuckles) And then after that?

 **Noctis** : A man grabs Rygdea and pulls him off the woman, throwing him right into a tank.  A sword appears in his hand and he points at Rygdea.  Rygdea he. . . he doesn't look like Rygdea anymore.  He's a monster.  The man with the sword looks sad, almost like he doesn't want to fight.  The woman's on the ground, crying, reaching weakly toward the monster. Everything goes black.  It gets weird after that.

 **Sazh** : (laughing) After  _all that_ you choose _now_ to say 'it gets weird'

 **Noctis** : Yeah, it gets weird. See, the woman wakes up.  

 **Sazh** : That's not so weird.

 **Noctis** : Eeeergh because that's _not_ the weird part, please stop interrupting me.  The weird part is seeing my _dad_ sitting in the chair beside her bed. 

 **Sazh** : Oh. . . (quietly) _shit_. 

 

**\--END OF RECORDING--**

 

* * *

**From:** rc113@lucismail.com   
**To** : skatzroy@bonsai.org[  
](mailto:rc113@lucismail.com)**Subject** : RE: (not) Dreams

 

You said you had something else to send me.

 

-Regis

 

P.S. Noctis can go. 

* * *

 

 **From:** skatzroy@bonsai.org  
**To** : rc113@lucismail.com   
**Subject** : RE: RE: (not) Dreams  
**Attachments** : 01.jpg

 

While he was in the bathroom I told Dajh to scrap what he was originally sketching and told him to draw Violetta instead.  I'm sure i don't need to go into detail what came next.  

You're a cruel man, Regis; Noctis deserves to know. She's his _mother_ for Etro's sake!  

But not just Noctis--Bodhum, too.  He could be the Mirus Child.  

 

-Sazh

 

P.S. Like there was ever any doubt.

 

* * *

 

 

 **From:** rc113@lucismail.com   
**To** : skatzroy@bonsai.org[  
](mailto:rc113@lucismail.com)**Subject** : RE: RE: RE: (not) Dreams

 

He's _not_ the Mirus child.  He's my  _son_.  

  
I won't let them take him from me.  

 

I _promised_ her, Sazh.

 

-Regis

 

* * *

 

 **From:** skatzroy@bonsai.org  
**To** : rc113@lucismail.com [  
](mailto:rc113@lucismail.com)**Subject** : RE: RE: RE: RE: (not Dreams)

 

Raines is going to shit himself.

 

-Sazh

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're familiar with Sazh's eidolon, then yes, that was totally Brynhildr coming to Violetta's rescue. if you're not familiar, the answer's still yes
> 
> p.s. there's a tiny mention of 'charred corpses' in ch16 if you missed that ;)


	25. In Secret [In Memoriam]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dreams worsen. Regis turns to the last person who would want to help him.  
> [flashback chapter]

The setting is a shoebox apartment on the dodgy end of Concelare.  Noise from the outside world is floating in through the open window: a symphony of drunken shouts, shattering glass and police sirens.  It is almost three o'clock in the morning--business as usual, for Concelare.  Regis hopes this first meeting will be just as fruitful.  

When the knock on the door finally comes Regis isn't sure if the sigh leaving his lips is out of relief or resignation.

***

Raines says nothing when he enters, striding into the living room where two chairs are positioned across from each other.  A small, square coffee table bridges the gap between; a white A4-sized envelope sitting atop of it. The l'cie  doesn't bother to shrug out of his coat before he sits down: clearly he doesn't believe this meeting will take very long.  

"I appreciate you coming all this way," Regis says, planting himself cautiously in the seat across.  

"And I don't appreciate being kept in the dark," Raines answers, grey eyes cold as he regards the envelope and then Regis.  "What is this about?"

Regis slides the envelope closer to him. "Open it."

Inside the envelope are color photographs of Noctis out and about in Lucis, memories which Regis holds close to his heart: 

Pranking Ignis with Prompto. . .

Burying Gladiolus in the sand at the beach. . .

Failing to best Stella in a fencing match. . .

His first chocobo ride. . .

Raines frowns as he goes through them, tossing them with little care back onto the table. Last to land on the top of the pile is the most recent: Noctis grinning with a face smeared with birthday cake while he poses with two number-one-shaped candles.  "Is this some sort of joke?" Raines says.

"Do you see me laughing?"

Raines looks from the pile of photographs and then back to Regis.  "You don't have a son."

"As far as Bodhum knows-"

Regis' back slams against the wall, the impact of it shaking dust from the ceiling.  Raines' hand is wrapped around Regis' throat, shaking from the effort of holding himself back from doing worse.  

"You selfish son of a bitch!" Raines snarls.  Regis isn't certain what surprises him most: the fact that Raines is capable of showing emotion, or the fact that Raines has emotions altogether.  His grey eyes are so dark, they appear almost violet.  "I saw in the Seeing Pools. I  _saw_. And when we came to Lucis to collect Rygdea, I _searched_.  There was no sign within the palace of a child's existence; no childish laughter, no clumsy footsteps in the hallways.  I saw Rygdea's memories.  I _saw._ "

"I had Cor take him to Accordo; I couldn't risk any of you finding out. And Lucis Intelligence is very thorough in keeping people invisible-"  

Regis is slammed a second time, so hard that his molars rattle.

"Noctis is _not_ the Mirus child-"

"He is a child born from a l'cie and a human!" Raines hisses.

"Violetta was practically human," Regis barely manages to choke out, hands desperately trying to free himself "she was stripped of most of her powers before we even-"

Raines lets out a hiss and releases him, going back to his seat.  He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, fingers digging into the armrests of his chair.  

 _Well that went well,_ Regis thinks, picking himself up off the floor. He _had_ come here tonight expecting Raines to kill him, after all.   After he sits down, Raines finally opens his eyes.  

"You were never planning on telling us, were you."

"I knew you'd try to take him away."

"And when Bhunivelze returns?" Raines' tone has Regis' shoulders shrinking into himself.  "When the lands are overrun with cieth?  What then?"

"I promised her I'd protect him."

Raines goes completely still.  

"He's all I have left," Regis continues.  "I just want him to have a normal life, away from. . . all of  _that_."

"He's your _heir_ ," Raines points out.  "He was never destined for a 'normal' life to begin with.  Why even come to me if you're set on keeping him from his destiny?  Unless. . . " understanding dawns. "Have the fits started?  Bleeding out of the eyes?" 

Regis stares.  "How could you possibly know that?"

"Noctis isn't the only child to be born from a l'cie and human," Raines says.  "There have been others.  In the Unseen we have an archive called the Seeing Pools.  It houses all the memories of all the souls who have passed on; l'cie and human alike. Noctis is able to access these because he has a connection to Valhalla through his mother.  The blood ties he has with her are no different in the Unseen.  Every memory Violetta had he is able to see because of this connection.  He could see your memories too--if he concentrated hard enough; mine as well.  It's nothing out of the ordinary.  If he isn't trained, the connection will fade as the years pass--"

"Others?" Regis interrupts, hopeful. There's a chance that Noctis might not be the child of prophecy.  

Raines is regretful.  "They've passed on years ago."

"Goddamnit," Regis mutters.

"Watch your tongue," Raines scolds. "Noctis is currently the only living child we have to rest our hopes on.  He must be taught.  We l'cie can only stave off the crystal's deterioration for so long."

"It doesn't make sense to me," Regis says.  "L'cie and humans cannot fall in love--that's the most fundamental doctrine for you; the reason for Bodhum's isolation.  Why would you preach that and then turn around and say that you're looking for a child that's. . . "

Raines heaves a sigh. "It's. . . complicated."

"He's my _son_ , Raines.  I have a right to know."

Raines goes quiet, staring at the photographs in front of him, and Regis knows he's thinking of Violetta in that moment.   _Twins_ , Regis remembers, feeling a stab of guilt.  _They were twins._

"He looks just like her," the l'cie muses, softly.  "But not the eyes." Grey eyes freeze over, and Raines' voice is full of resentment.  "He has your eyes.  Probably has your selfishness, too."

"I'm human," is all Regis can say, is all Regis can _be._ _I loved her; I've never regretted loving her._ "What else can you expect?"

Raines shakes his head. He closes his eyes again.  Exhales.  "You're going to get me into a lot of trouble for this."

"You shouldn't have come, then."

"You wouldn't have left me alone otherwise," Raines counters, waving off Regis before he can shoot back a retort.  "The most simple of explanations to answer your questions is love."

"Love?"

"From what I understand of the Mirus prophecy, a love strong enough to defy doctrine, strong enough to cross worlds, to transcend time--that kind of love will bring to life a child born of _both_ worlds.  A child of Mirus."

"So. . . 'love' between a human and l'cie," Regis finds that difficult to process. It goes against everything he knows about l'cie. "Not to be crude, but if that is the case, why aren't l'cie running around and er" he gestures vaguely ". . . _you know_."

"Because then that  _wouldn't_ be love," Raines explains, lips thinning.  "No matter how pure the intention of the l'cie in trying to create children of the prophecy, if the love between a l'cie and the human fails to pass the test there are consequences for the l'cie." His voice lowers.  "Dying is a mercy; there are worse things that could happen. The doctrine is a safeguard, of sorts."

"So you tell the l'cie that they _can't_ \--hoping that they _do?"_

"I told you it was complicated," Raines says.  

"And you're the only one who knows."

"Actually, only a select few: the current Seeress, Rygdea and Snow," Raines confirms with a small nod.  "I'm assuming Rygdea told _you_ , seeing as you know about the Mirus prophecy."

"Why only you four?"

"We were the only ones present for First Seeress Rydia's prophecy and then Seeress' Yeul's revelation.  In the grand scheme of things, the Goddess has a role for all of us.  As far as the other l'cie are aware, keeping the crystals alive is to keep the spread of cieth minimal while they await the 'savior' among them.  I take no pleasure in misleading them, but it was necessary to the end goal.  Yet even while pursuing that goal I have my skepticisms.  They've been through enough." Raines sits back and contemplates, fingers drumming against the armrests:

"I could train Noctis, if you like." 

***

Noctis stares at Regis like he's grown a second head.  "A l'cie?  My very own l'cie?"

"Not. . . _exactly,"_ Regis says.  "Raines will just be here to train you to help you understand your powers better."  

At this Noctis frowns.  "But I thought I had to wait till I was eighteen."

 _Me too, kid._ "Well, I mean, you  _can_ still wait till you're eighteen if you--"

"No, no, no-" Noctis says, the eagerness in his voice causing an ache in Regis' chest. "I want to meet him. I want to learn. Gosh this is so exciting dad! A l'cie! Here in Lucis! I can't wait to tell Stella--actually, I'll go call her now--"

"Whoa slow down there, I wasn't finished," Regis says, catching Noctis by the wrist.  "Noct, do you remember when I told you Rygdea was excommunicated from Bodhum?"

"Um. Kind of," Noctis says, but not very convincingly.  Regis decides to let it slide: he's only eleven, after all. 

"And do you remember when I told you that Bodhum and Tenebrae do not get along?"

"Yeah. . . ?  A little bit?"

"Well, if you want the l'cie to train you. . . you can't ever visit Tenebrae again."

Noctis crosses his arms, a scowl forming on his face.  "That's not fair."

"I know son.  So what do you say?"

The boy's face is thoughtful.  "Well. . . Stella's my friend and Luna, too."

"That's right."

"And you taught me that I should always look after my friends."

"Also true," Regis nods, smiling before he adds, "so. . . no then?"

"Never!" Noctis affirms, blue eyes steely with resolve. "I think I'll wait till I'm eighteen, thanks.  You can tell that l'cie to shove it.  I'm not ditching my friends just to learn a few magic tricks."

And Regis just can't help but laugh.

***

Raines isn't at all surprised when Regis breaks the news to him.  In fact there's a smile on his face while he stands and pulls on his coat, heading out the door. It's cryptic, unsettling.  Slightly smug. 

 _Manipulative son of a bitch._ "You knew it would play out like this all along, didn't you?" Regis accuses, temper flaring.  "You _knew_ he'd say no.  There's more to the prophecy, isn't there?  'The Goddess has a role for all of us'- those were the exact words!"

"We'll be in touch," is all Raines says.

Then he's gone. 


	26. In Memoriam [Part v] : Year One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, a l'cie arrives in Lucis  
> [flashback chapter]

Noctis is silent during the entire press conference.  With Raines standing beside him, Regis leads with the announcement the world has been waiting for: the renewal of Bodhum's ties to Lucis.  After thirteen years of radio silence on both ends it is wonderful news for his fellow countrymen, it is cause for celebration,  _hope_.  A l'cie is coming to Lucis. But Noctis is nauseated.  

With the announcement comes the implicit understanding that there will now be restrictions in all of Lucis' associations with countries whose relations with Bodhum have crumbled.  Countries like Tenebrae. Raines is present to elaborate on the nature of such restrictions.  

Noctis has nothing against Raines.  The man is a brilliant conversationalist, always patient and ready to answer the endless questions that pop into Noctis' head regarding l'cie during his visits. But when he watches him take to the podium, he can't help but feel the tiniest amount of resentment. As leader of the l'cie Raines is the reason why he's not ever going to be able to step foot in Tenebrae again. 

"Trade and commerce will continue to proceed as normal," Raines says, handsome and charming--and eternally thirty--as ever. "We will not interfere so long as none of these activities involve the last crystal. And though it is the l'cie's mission to protect the crystal, such protection will extend to the Prince of Lucis himself."

"And the Dissolvere,  sir?" One reporter says.  

"The Dissolvere will continue to be observed. Where the l'cie cannot go, the prince will not endeavor to go either."

Noctis switches off the television and screams himself hoarse into his pillows.  

Worst eighteenth birthday ever.

***

Later that night Regis returns, the familiar shuffle of his of his footsteps echoing in the hallway before he knocks softly on the door.

"Noct?  Are you still awake?" Noctis rolls his eyes and turns on his side.

"No."

His door swings open anyway. The foot of the bed sinks as Regis sits.  He lets out a sigh.

"So I'm guessing you watched the press conference," Regis says.

"You guess correct." Noctis says.  He turns, momentarily forgoing his frustration for curiosity when he sees the A4 manila folder and a smaller package wrapped in brown paper both addressed to him in Regis' lap.  He sits up. "What are those?"

"This," Regis hands over the brown package, "is a birthday present from Raines.  He knows how much you love reading."

"Wow, that's nice of him." 

"Knowing him, it's probably a rare first-edition.  And this," Regis adds, passing over the folder, "is all the information Raines was willing to provide on the new l'cie." 

"Doesn't seem like there's a lot," Noctis remarks, testing the weight of the folder in his hands.  It's feather light; there has to be only a few pages, at the very most. He opens it and flips through before closing it with a frown. "No photo?"

"No photo," Regis says. "The Odin l'cie seems to emit an electromagnetic field about his person that distorts any image anyone tries to take of him."

"You should've asked Raines for a picture."

Regis smiles. "Why do you assume that  _isn't_  the first thing I did?" 

"Hmph." Noctis can tell he's going to have a  _spectacular_  time with this l'cie.  Not wanting to dwell on it any more than necessary, he slides the folder aside and starts on Raines' present.  

"Is it Twelfth Night?" Regis asks, just as Noctis tosses the wrapping over his shoulder.  He nods, tracing over the embossed lettering with a finger, marveling at how good the condition of the book is in despite all the dog-ears. It has to be at least a century old (maybe more, seeing as Raines is l'cie).  

"How'd you know?" Noctis says.

"It's one of his favorite plays. Don't tell anyone, but I think he fancies himself as  _Sebastian_ , sometimes.  Caught him reciting it in the corridors once."

"What a nerd." Noctis opens the book, eyebrows rising at what he sees on the first page.  Written in neat cursive is a little message addressed to Raines, wishing him a Happy Birthday.  "Who's 'Violetta'?"  Hearing a sharp intake of breath he looks up and puzzles over his father's expression.  Regis' eyes are misty, staring blankly ahead.  "Um Dad?  Are you-" 

He touches his dad's wrist, and the man jumps at the contact.

"Dad?"

"I-I'm fine," Regis says, a little too quickly. "Just forgot myself there for a second.  Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I asked who 'Violetta' was."

"Oh, she was Raines' sister. Twin, in fact," Regis adds, in a much quieter tone.  

" _Was_?" Noctis says.  "Is she dead?"

"Yes." Regis hesitates before adding,  "she was a l'cie.  Died around the time of the Dissolvere with Tenebrae."

"Oh." Suddenly it makes sense. Noctis feels a little guilty for wishing ill on Raines.  _Losing his own family, that's gotta be rough._ "Raines never mentioned he had a sister."

"She's not exactly. .  . easy to talk about," Regis says.

Noctis has no idea why his father's so choked up, but Noctis is so used to seeing him get emotional about all the little things he does--reading a book, making shit talk with the guys, getting into all kinds of mischief--that it doesn't faze him.  Still, a change in conversation topic is obviously needed. Regis is ugly when he cries.  

"Hey, dad,"

"Hmm?"

"Can I. . . go to Tenebrae and say good-bye?"

"If I say 'no' are you going to go to Tenebrae anyway?"

" _Totally_."

Regis sighs.  "Very well.  As long as you promise to study the l'cie's file and be civil to him when he arrives tomorrow."

"I'm  _always_  civil," Noctis swears, crossing his heart. 

***

It's only been a few hours since the press conference, when the airship finally lands, but already the world has shifted. 

The atmosphere that greets Noctis in Tenebrae is  _cold_.  Gentiana doesn't say a word, doesn't even acknowledge him and Luna's eyes dart nervously to the bedroom door every time.  Even  _Stella_ , who he's closest to most of all is hesitant when he suddenly appears, sitting on their balcony railing.  It's off-putting not hearing them laugh; they usually do every time he does it. 

"I just wanted to say good-bye," Noctis begins, awkward.  He pauses, not missing the clear flash of reproach in all their eyes.  "And that I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about Noct," Stella says.  Her tone is brisk and formal.  He doesn't recognize her all of a sudden.  "This isn't your fault."

 _Sure doesn't sound like it_ , Noctis thinks. "Stella-"

"Maybe it's for the best," Stella says, voice gentle as she touches his arm. "I don't know what happened during the Dissolvere, but I respect where the l'cie are coming from.  Our ancestors haven't exactly had the best track record when it comes to nurturing such an important relationship.  Lucis is the last country in the world with a crystal--it definitely should be protected."

"Protected from what? Bhunivelze is gone."

"Don't be  _naive_ , Noct.  It's all over the news: people across the world are starting to demand Lucis share its power, some even going so far to say that the age of l'cie is over."

"So?"

"So  _you_  as the crystal's steward should  _care_ Noct. What if someone tried to steal it?  What if someone  _did_  steal it and you didn't have the l'cie around to protect it because Lucis didn't honor the Dissolvere?"

Noctis smirks at her.  "Then  _I'll_  protect it. I bet I could do just as good a job as any old l'cie--"

Stella chooses to kiss him then, a tiny peck on the lips that has his heart stuttering to a halt and Luna gasping behind him.  Stella is smiling when she pulls back. A sad, regretful smile.  But a smile nonetheless.  

"What-"

She slaps him lightly on the cheek.  Her touch is ice against his skin. "So naive," she whispers.  

Then she shoves him right off the fourth-floor balcony.  

(Gladiolus laughs the entire way home.)

***

Much  _much_  later that night, Noctis is back in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to think about the kiss because of the file lying open across his chest.  

There's entire paragraphs detailing the l'cie's affinity for lightning-based magic, fighting style (short-to medium range) and weapon type (gunblade), but zero information on the l'cie as a  _person._ If Noctis didn't know any better he'd think he was reading the schematics of a weapon: energy output, speed, heat signature.  Everything is so clinical and detached, he has no idea what he's going to say, what he's going to  _do_  when they're finally standing face to face tomorrow, but there's really no point in dwelling on it. Because regardless of whether he and the l'cie get along or not, they are stuck with each other.

With that thought in mind he rolls onto his side, closes his eyes and gives in to sleep.  

Tomorrow's going to suck.  

***

Ignis and Gladiolus have always been separate schools of thought when it comes to giving advice, so the following conversation over breakfast is interesting enough to allay the butterflies in Noctis' stomach.  

"Have the l'cie meet you in the library before the ceremony and then-"

"Ambush him," Gladiolus interrupts, grinning widely.  "A few choice punches here and there and you guys'll be thick as thieves.  We do it all the time with the new recruits down at the barracks.  Nothing like a good old left hook to the face to wring out the tension." 

"And that actually works?" Noctis says, one eyebrow raised. Ignis sighs. 

"Like you wouldn't  _believe_ ," Gladiolus says, pouring himself some more orange juice. "But whatever. You do you, Noct."

 ***

'Noct' doesn't do 'Noct'.  'Noct' does 'Gladiolus', and the results are nothing short of disastrous.  The l'cie reads through all his moves with an ease that hints at boredom, ending the fifteen-second skirmish with his sword at Noctis' throat. 

"Yield."

Holy shit she's a woman.  

*** 

'Gender is inconsequential to us,' Sazh said once, of the l'cie. 'All that matters is the Focus.'

Noctis wonders sometimes what the criteria would have been in Bhunivelze's time to become a l'cie, because it cannot be pure coincidence that every l'cie he knows of is ridiculously attractive.  The oil paintings of Rygdea hanging in the public gallery has visitors stopping and staring, there are quiet sighs that trail after Raines in the corridors and Sazh and Dajh (even though it isn't public knowledge that they are l'cie) receive a lot of anonymous love letters and generous donations to keep Bonsai House running.  He really should not at all be surprised that the face beneath the helmet is capable of evoking similar reactions from the people.

But he is.  And were it not for his interactions with Stella (and Luna and Gentiana) he knows that eighty per cent of this first conversation would have consisted of him stumbling for words and mixing metaphors.  She stands a few inches taller after she pulls him up, and that is sufficient motivation in becoming the poster-child for professionalism after that humiliating display. Because she is  _l'cie._ The revelation that she is a woman has nothing to do with the fact that she  _just handed his ass to him_. He can't let her leave this room with the impression that the steward of the Lucis crystal is a bumbling incompetent.

"I don't mean in anyway to undermine your abilities," she says, "but I do believe there are a few gaps in your defenses that can be remedied, and I can teach you, if you'd like, so that next time you see fit to test my reflexes I will not have to hold back. If it pleases, your grace."

Yeah.  She definitely thinks he's a moron. 

(She blushes as she says it though; he decides to take that as a victory.)

***

The first thing Noctis learns about her--aside from the fact that her nose crinkles by the tiniest amount when someone addresses her by her real name--is that control, and the act of yielding it is a really big deal for her.  He sees it first hand when they are quickly ushered into a press conference following the welcoming ceremony and there is collective bewilderment in the eyes of every single journalist/correspondent in possession of a camera or smartphone.  

"So weird, I can't get a clear shot," Noctis hears one of them whisper. 

"Do you think it's her?" Another whispers back. 

" _Has_  to be.  If I shift the focus on something else the image is clear again."

"Maybe she doesn't like having her picture taken." Noctis knows if he hadn't glanced at Lightning at that specific moment--because he knows if  _he_ can hear them, she can too--he would have missed the smirk across her lips.  

"Um, Lightning, ma'am?" 

"Yes?" 

"Would it be alright with you, if we took your picture?"

"Of. . . course." 

***

The photographs in every magazine and newspaper and internet blog--Noctis sometimes reads those--the next morning come out perfectly exposed yet still manage to not do justice to the real thing.  His breakfast lies forgotten as he laughs, trying and failing to find a single terrible picture of her taken from a bad angle. He points this out, in an attempt to compliment her, but it has the opposite effect.

"Thank you," she says, dully.  Her hands are clenched into fists.  Ignis kicks him under the table.

"Lightning-"

Her chair audibly creaks against the hardwood floor as she stands.  She bows stiffly toward him.  "I am late for my morning exercises.  May I be excused, your highness."

Uh-oh. Not good. "Yeah, yeah, sure.  You don't need to ask though; we're equals," Noctis adds, hoping that makes a difference. "This home is yours too now."  

At the mention of 'home' her posture goes even more rigid.  Ignis kicks him a second time. Quick as her namesake she's out of the dining hall, and the three of them are sitting in awkward silence.

"Well," Gladiolus states, "that went well." 

***

Days pass, turning into weeks since. . . yeah, whatever  _that_ was.  Regis takes him for a walk one day through the rose garden to discuss progress.  

"So.  How's things?" 

Noctis hesitates. Arthur said they (Regis and Rygdea) had a hard time with each other, arguing constantly, but when it came down to it, their alliance had enemies scattering. Thirteen years on after Rygdea's sacrifice, people still talk about what a great team they were.

Noctis wants that with Lightning, he  _really_  does--in  _spite_  of resenting her a little for Tenebrae (even though it's not her fault)--but there's such an _ocean_ of life experiences spanning  _centuries_  between them, that every interaction leaves him anxious and sweating.  Everything he says and/or does manages—in some small way or other—to offend her.  And every time it happens Lightning always has an excuse to escape confronting him about it.  

"Noct?" Regis says.

"I dunno, dad. I do want us to get along, but she's _so_. . ." he mimes a strangling motion and Regis laughs.  

"Give it time," he says.  "I admire your dedication but there's really no forcing someone to become friends with you.  Think about her situation: she's l'cie, surrounded by humans.  She's a fish out of water here.  Maybe just give her a little space, give her time to get over the culture shock.  Let her get used to her new surroundings first."

"And what do I do in the meantime?" Noctis replies, sullen. "I can't just sit there, the Council's watching."

"I didn't say 'leave her alone', I said 'give her space'.  Use that space to observe her."

***

Noctis is certain, from the rooftops where he follows Lightning during her 5AM run that this qualifies as  _stalking,_ not observing.  But whatever, it's too late to turn back now, and _shit_ , does the l'cie run  _fast;_ he has to warp a few times to recover the lost ground between them.  He knows she leaves the palace at 5AM because her room is right next to his. The only reason he had been up to hear her creeping out at such an unholy hour was because he was cramming for a history test that was happening later on that day.

The first few times he trails her he's too tired during his afternoon classes to really process anything.  He just falls into a deep sleep the moment he gets home like a stone through water.  But he perseveres, and a little over two weeks afterward his internal clock finally catches up.  

Lightning's route takes her from Insomnia to Tempus, up along treacherously winding roads that lead to Laxus Hill. He doesn't notice the first few times because he's busy scrambling to hide behind sporadically spaced trees and shrubs the further away from the capital they get, but one day he sees.  

A few yards from the foot of Laxus Hill the path narrows, creeping along a small section of cliffside that overlooks Hals-short for 'Halcyon'-Beach.  And whenever Lightning hits the cliffside portion of her run her pace slows, eventually passing the opportunity to enjoy the amazing view.  Just before the path takes her back inland, she starts to look over her shoulder but quickly turns her eyes forward again.  Then her pace picks up, and she's continuing on to the top of the hill to do a few bodyweight exercises in a circuit before returning home.

“She’s homesick,” Ignis concludes, when Noctis mentions it on their way back from a night out on the town.  

“Isn’t that a given?” Gladiolus asks, slinking further down the passenger seat.  He closes his eyes.  “She’s so far away from home et cetera, et cetera. . .”

“No, I mean Hals probably reminds her of Bodhum,” Ignis says. “Think about it Noct, a tiny group of islands surrounded by water. . . I’m betting her house is right on the beach side, too.”

“I’m betting she looks great in a bikini,” Gladiolus says sleepily, a half-smile on his face. 

Noctis and Ignis both laugh. 

“He’s drunk,” Ignis says.

“She totally would though,” Noctis muses.  

***

After much thought on the topic Noctis decides not to take her to the beach.  Not just because he's not a hundred per cent certain on how that's going to help her homesickness, but also because it would be awkward explaining to her that the idea came about because he'd been following her.  He does however, think of the next best thing, and slaps himself in the forehead when the light-bulb switches on in his head. 

"Of course!" Why hadn't he thought of it sooner?

From her place across from him at the table where she’s reading one of his textbooks Lightning looks up, eyebrows raised. 

“Nothing, just thinking aloud,” Noctis says, grinning.  Excited, and filled with hope, he bends his head down again and works on finishing his essay. Even if it’s not him she still needs to talk to someone; she’ll explode at the rate she’s going.  She can’t continue to solely train to the point of exhaustion as a way to vent whatever frustrations she has.  It's not healthy. And who better to empathize with her situation than a fellow l'cie?

***

When the doors of Bonsai open, Noctis for a brief moment stands terrified, wondering if he’s gone and put his foot in his mouth again. Lightning is just standing on the threshold for a _worrying_ amount of time, staring wordlessly at Sazh. Is she angry?  Happy? He can’t get a read on her—he’s never been able to get a read on her since day one.

“I was wondering when you’d drop in,” Sazh says, breaking the silence.

For the first time since arriving in Lucis the l’cie smiles. Noctis breathes a sigh of relief and thanks Etro under his breath.

It's a start.

***

A few days after Lightning’s next couple of visits to Bonsai House, Noctis, from behind the locked doors of his private study decides to call Sazh.

Sazh, perceptive as ever, already knows why. “This is cheating, you know,” he says.

Noctis has Lightning’s file open on top of the research he’s meant to be doing for an essay.  “I want us to be friends Sazh." 

“Friends, huh. . .”

There's speculation in Sazh's tone but it's easy for Noctis to ignore. He'd grown accustomed to copping that kind of flack from Gladiolus whenever he returned from visiting Tenebrae in the past.  "Come on, Sazh, I know you know something.”

Sazh is quiet on the other end of the line for a moment.  “She has a sister,” Sazh says finally.  “I advise against attempting to get in contact with her, though.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s the Seeress.  Off-limits to the Steward, remember?”

Well _that_ complicates things.   _Thank you ancestors for ruining everything_ , Noctis thinks, rolling his eyes.

“Lightning won’t say, but I can tell she misses her something fierce,” Sazh says.

“I could fly her to Bodhum,” Noctis thinks aloud.  “Just spend a day there.  That sound good?”

“It’s a nice thought, but I don’t think she’d go for it—she’s only been in Lucis for a few months.  Visiting Bodhum when she has a job to do will earn you the judgement of not only the Lucis’ Council, but the entire world.  She has a strong work ethic, Noct. You’d just be insulting her.”

 _The next best thing then_ , Noctis decides. “Thanks Sazh.”

“Anytime, kid.”

After Sazh hangs up Noctis calls another number he has on speed dial. 

“Do you remember that time you wanted that rare peace lily and I came through for you?” he says, the moment it's answered.

There is a sigh from the other end.  “What do you want?” Ignis says.

*** 

“I can’t accept this,” Lightning says unhappily the next morning, while Ignis sets up a new laptop on her desk.  She crosses her arms, frowning at Noctis. “What would I even use it for?”

“Whatever you want, really,” Noctis waves his hand lazily, “video games, watching movies,” he pauses “video conferencing.”

Lightning’s eyes widen for a short moment.  And then realization hits.  Dull blue eyes are suddenly ablaze with accusation.  “Did Sazh—”

“And done!” Ignis announces.  The two of them make a hasty dash through the door before she can finish that question.

***

“Heard her whistling in the corridors on her way to the training ground earlier today,” Regis confides later that night after Lightning heads back to her room after dinner.

Whistling. That’s new.  “You did?”

“Mm, she seemed in good spirits,” Regis says.  “What did you do?” 

Noctis grins and then winks, sly. “Just observed, I guess.”

***

One Saturday morning, when he has nothing on (and because it’s been sitting at the back of his mind since day one) he asks her to spar with him.

“You _did_ say you were going to give me a few pointers,” he reminds her, seeing her hesitation.  “Come on, let’s go.  And don’t hold back.”

She doesn’t; cracks two of his ribs— _wait, that feels like three_ , Noctis thinks, wincing while she presses a glowing hand against his chest to heal him. 

“Sorry,” she mutters, eyes averted.

Etro, she's going give him a complex.

“What are you talking about?” Noctis says, and her head whips up in surprise at his tone. This is probably the first time he’s scolded her. “This was only round one," he smiles.

She smiles too. "Okay."

It goes from there.

The guys give him hell during dinner later on that night after Lightning recounts to them in gory detail all his humiliating losses, but Noctis doesn’t mind.  She’s smiling. Maybe a little, but it still counts as a victory in his books.

Nailed it.


	27. In Memoriam [Part vi]: Year Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From 'Noctis' to 'Noct'.

Traditionally the heir to the Lucis throne is meant to wear the signet ring around the pinky finger of their left hand.  Noctis would honestly prefer to not wear it _at all_ , so as a compromise, it dangles from a silver chain around his neck. Nothing fancy, nothing shiny, just something durable that gets the job done.  Sometimes in quiet moments of introspect, he finds himself fingering it absently, tracing over the Lucis coat of arms engraved on the bezel.  

"She's a character, isn't she," Sazh says, returning to the balcony and passing one of two steaming cups of hot chocolate over, nodding below to the snow-covered grounds where Lightning is instructing the children of Bonsai. Normally, Noctis would be down there to watch, but he doesn't have enough patience for Seifer.  The brat has a mouth on him that tempts Noctis toward doing heinous things like kicking tiny animals that don't deserve to be kicked.  

"How do you mean?" Noctis says.  

"I've known her for. . . " Sazh lets out a whistle as he contemplates, "well, _you know_. If you've ever seen her and Odin in battle, it becomes really difficult to reconcile the Light you see down there with the one from Bhunivelze's time. The way those two _moved_ , tearing their way through the cieth horde--like it was just another Tuesday.  It's no picnic being trained from the ground up by eidolons--I mean Brynhildr gave me hell, but _Odin_? As a mentor? Goddess, I'd shit myself." Sazh laughs. 

"That bad?" 

" _B_ _rutal,"_ Sazh says. "The injuries received from battles against Bhunivelze's underlings and cieth were nothing compared to what she got from training alone."

"She says he never holds back."

"He  _doesn't_ ," Sazh agrees, and the disapproval in his tone has Noctis frowning.  "Odin values honor in battle.  And his training method roughly translates to 'kill or be killed'."

"Yikes."

"Fun fact: despite being the _oldest_ of the eidolons and the _fastest_ , Odin was the last to find his way back to the First Seeress.  That's how leadership of the l'cie went to Raines.  Not-so-fun-follow-up fact: Gilgamesh--the _youngest_ \--is anything  _but_ a graceful winner.  That age-old adage about siblings at its finest."

"Didn't think it applied to eidolons."

"Course not," Sazh replies "you're human. You just think of them as summoned beings--"

"Oh, I didn't mean to--" Noctis tries to say but Sazh waves him off.

"It's  _fine_ , Noct."  His fingers tap thoughtfully against his cup.  "Up until Lightning, all the previous humans he'd chosen never survived the initial bonding stage.  Takes some getting used to doesn't it?" Sazh says.  "Seeing how gentle she can be when she trains those kids.  It's a real shame; I think she'd make a wonderful mother."

"A shame?  She doesn't want kids?" Even as he voices this notion aloud Noctis is still surprised.  _She looks so happy. . ._

"She _can't have any_ ," Sazh corrects, softly.  "An accident when she was just a kid."

"Oh. . ." 

"You know, I always did wonder," Sazh muses.  Noctis pauses in the middle of taking a sip, eyebrows raised.  "About back then.  There was a l'cie Light was. .  .I guess you could say 'involved' with.  Was it love?  I don't know--it definitely wasn't perfect, that's for sure.  But he understood her better than anyone else did. They had similar philosophies, those two.  So of course, it took us all by surprise when she ended things."

Noctis' eyebrows rise in interest.  Lightning in a relationship?  He never even considered the possibility.

"Why so surprised?" Sazh asks, and Noctis rubs the back of his neck, mortified.  

"She's just so independent," Noctis says.

"So?"

"So don't relationships rely on. . . I dunno, the opposite of that?"

"Not necessarily.  Sure there's gotta be _some_ degree of interdependence, but that doesn't mean the people involved lose their autonomy altogether," Sazh replies, before continuing.  "Anyway, Light's guy."

"' _Light's guy_ '," Noctis snickers.  

"He was a _really_ good-looking fellow," at this Noctis rolls his eyes "popular with the ladies.  Between you and me, I'm betting it's because of the little tonberry that followed him around.  I mean, who can resist a tonberry? Granted, they're not as cute as chocobos, but-" Sazh clears his throat, suddenly sheepish. "Sorry, digressing, aren't I?"

"I don't mind," Noctis says earnestly. He enjoys when Sazh digresses.  His first-hand accounts of l'cie life are colorful and riveting on their own, but the little off tangent remarks he makes are the best part; humorous footnotes of a history too unbelievable to be real.  "Tonberry's are pretty cute, though, you gotta admit."

"Debatable," Sazh sniffs. "But yeah. He was a solid guy to have at your back, especially in a fight.  Never understood why things between them cooled till I went drinking with him one time.  Then it all made sense."  

"He wanted children and she couldn't give him any?"

"Actually, the opposite: _he_ was the one who didn't want children; didn't even want to _adopt_ , the cold-hearted bastard. Needless to say it went downhill from there.  I might have cold-cocked him in the jaw, but let's chalk that up to the fog of war," Sazh winks, and Noctis snorts.  ' _Might have'._  

"What happened to him?"

"He died." 

"Oh.  How'd he. . . ?"

"Light killed him."

Noctis chokes mid-sip. "What?"

"Not like _that_ ," Sazh laughs, slapping him on the back. "Look, I know she can seem cool and detached sometimes, but give her _some_ credit."

"Sorry it's just. . . I train with her.  You telling me that isn't too hard  _not_ to believe."

"Fair enough.  How _is_ training coming along by the way?  Your old man says it's 'going well'."

"She's very. . . _motivated_ ," Noctis answers, wincing as he thinks of the broken bones she's had to reset from past training sessions. "She keeps telling me I have 'potential'."

"Put it this way: if she didn't think you did, if she didn't _care,_ she wouldn't push you at all," Sazh replies, "but we're digressing again.

After Bhunivelze we were instructed by the Goddess to leave the crystals with humanity.  A small faction of the l'cie didn't agree.  It was too dangerous, giving them all this power and in so short a time span--they would surely abuse it.  Seeress Yeul and Raines were firm on the matter. I sat on the fence: I like to think about these things.  And the other guy, the one Light was involved with.  Well, he was leader of that group.  He wanted Light to join him. But when she said no, and he made the mistake of threatening Serah's life. . . it got messy."

"Wow," Noctis says.  "Never knew that."

"You're not supposed to." And then Sazh quickly points a finger at him in warning. "And if you want to keep enjoying that hot chocolate you're going to keep  pretending that you don't."

"Don't what?" Noctis says, and Sazh grins, clapping him on the back.  Noctis smiles and turns back to the scene below, curiosity piqued again.  

"Why does she do that?" 

"Do what?"

Noctis nods down below.  "That thing she's doing right now; putting her fist behind Squall's back.  What does that mean?  I've seen her do it a couple of times."

"Oh, that, it's just this thing she does sometimes to comfort people.  She's not a big hugger."

"What's it mean?"

Sazh smiles.  "It's sort of her way of promising that she'll be there for you, that she's 'got your back', in a sense.  ' _Always_.   _No matter what'_."

"Wow.  That's--" 

A snowball explodes against the balcony railing, raining ice and slush on the two of them.  Noctis gets the worst of it however; evidently the intended target.

"Perv!" Seifer yells, hands cupped around his mouth, while the other orphans laugh. Even Lightning is coughing into a fist to hide her laughter.

"You gonna let him talk to you like that?" Sazh says.

"Course not," Noctis answers, and throws himself into battle.

***

Sometimes, when Noctis looks into Lightning's eyes the enormous weight of _knowing_ that she is over a thousand years old comes crashing down on him suddenly like a tidal wave breaking on the rocks and he finds it difficult to breathe.  Hers are the eyes that have seen the rise of humanity, the fall of gods.  Eyes that have glimpsed upon creation's darkest secrets, yet still managing to appear as two shallow pools. 

"I have something for you," Noctis says when the door to her bedroom opens.  "May I come in?"

"Of course your highness."  He twitches at the formality, but decides to let it slide.

She's fascinating to watch during his father’s meetings. He doesn't know how she can stay so impossibly _still_ , serene gaze focused dead ahead, unaffected by the commotion of old men spitting vitriol and reaching grudging compromises right in front of her.  And that's when the waves come crashing down, that's when he remembers who she is, _what_ she is, _where_ she stands: at a fixed point while everyone else moves ahead through time; a stone lying still at the bottom of the riverbed, forgotten by the currents. And Noctis realizes as he sits through more and more of these meetings with dread that these are going to be the same eyes that will watch him inevitably grow to become one of the very old men arguing right in front of them.  He is eighteen, on the cusp of nineteen; already the same height as her.  But he’s still growing, and soon he will overtake her. Soon he will be twenty, then forty, then sixty. And Lightning will stay right where she is, forever twenty-one.

Leering up at humanity from the depths. 

“Noctis.” 

She’s watching him curiously from where she's perched at the edge of her bed, wondering why he hasn’t said anything yet.  

“I. . .uh.” Noctis remembers the envelope in his hand and rolls over to her in her desk chair. “This is for you.  It’s an invitation,” he explains as she stares at the ornately decorated card, one eyebrow rising as she reads her codename and last name spelt together in gold cursive in the center. 

“Lightning Farron?”

“Sorry, the organizers insisted on adding your last name.”

“It’s fine,” Lightning says. Noctis doesn’t miss the subtle hint of reproach in her voice. They stay like that for a while, her reading and re-reading the card in her hands until she sets it down in her lap and looks at him again, smiling gently. “Your birthday is during the new year.”

"Yeah. . . why?" Noctis can’t help but smile as well when he sees her smile; the room gets a little brighter, a little less cold. Sazh says the l’cie as a whole are deeply cynical, even him, _‘and Lightning is as cynical as they come.’_  Noctis figures if it’s any indicator of progress between the slowly building trust between them, then they're getting to a good place. 

“The new year is when Mirus shines brightest.”

“Mirus?”

“The constellation that appears just as winter ends. The day we became l’cie was the very first day this constellation appeared in the sky,” Lightning says. “For you to have been born under it. . . that has to be good luck.”

“I guess. . . ” 

“You’re not thrilled?” Lightning asks. 

“It’s a tradition of Lucis palace to welcome the New Year in style—big fancy dress ball, lots of dancing, lots of drinking. . .” 

“But you enjoy parties,” Lightning points out. “You never hesitate to go when Gladiolus asks.” 

“Because those are actually _fun,_ " Noctis says. He honestly wishes he was born on a different day if it would allow him the freedom to spend it however he likes.   _Just once_ , he's told his father over and over again, but Regis will never budge.  Last year it was cancelled because of Lightning's arrival, a circumstance that is neither here nor there for Noctis.

' _It gives people hope, knowing that the future king of Lucis might possibly be chosen by the Goddess herself.  You are 'Noctis Lucis Caelum': the light in the night sky. I chose that name for a reason.'_

Lightning stares at him.

Noctis stares right back.

“So I shouldn't go then,” Lightning says. 

“Actually, you don’t have a choice,” Noctis corrects and when she looks at him, slightly aghast, he adds, “don’t worry, we’ll be stuck there together.” 

An hour after that conversation he’s lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling when there’s a tentative knock at his door.    

“I. . .” The l’cie's eyes widen before flickering swiftly upward to meet his, caught off guard from being greeted by his bare-chest.  Noctis is about to tell her he can throw on a t-shirt but her unflappable demeanor returns just as quickly and it's back to business.  “I realized I don’t have anything to wear to this fancy dress ball.” 

Noctis smiles. “Don’t worry, I got _that_ part covered, too.” 

"Thank you.  Good night Noctis."

"Good night Light." She tenses, hearing her name shortened like that, and he quickly backtracks.   "Uh, sorry, I can call you Lightning if that makes you--"

"Light is fine." She turns to go.

"Then why'd you freeze up?" Noctis blurts, eyes widening in horror when Lightning frowns at him. Goddamn it, foot in mouth disease flaring up again. "Sorry Light you don't have to answer that--" _GODDAMN IT NOCT, **ONE** JOB_  "I mean Lightning--"

"There's nothing to be sorry about.  I'm not bothered."

"You froze up," Noctis points out, mildly confrontational.  It's happening again; her avoiding the issue to spare his feelings.  He has enough people doing that, thanks, and doesn't want her to join that group.  They're equals, he needs her to see that. He needs her to be okay with calling him out.  He needs her to start treating him like an adult for fuck's sake. "I saw you."

Lightning sighs. 

"Equals, Lightning," he reminds her.  "Just tell me, I can handle it. I'm not as bad a crybaby as Gladiolus says I am."

"It's the first time I've heard someone who _isn't_ l'cie address me that way."

Noctis takes a second to digest this.  "So. . . 'Light's good?"

"Light's good.  Good night Noctis."

"You know you can call me Noct, you know." He knows he's pushing his luck, but there's no harm in trying.

"I know," Lightning says.  Noctis rubs the back of his neck and sighs as she closes her door behind her.  

 _Someday,_ he thinks.

***

Because Ignis is one of those rare breed of male who has women down to a _science_ , and because he is capable of offering feedback that _doesn't_ involve telling them what they want to hear to get out of a store faster, Noctis opts for him drive them to the mall instead of Cor.   Before he starts the car Ignis stops and turns fully in his seat. Looks Lightning dead in the eye. 

“Yes?” 

“Would you prefer a suit or dress?”

For a moment Noctis stares, horrified, because Lightning's a woman and ‘dress’ _has_ to be the obvious option—it’s a _fancy dress ball_.  _Even I know that,_ Noctis thinks, throat running dry as Lightning stares at Ignis, silently passing judgement.   There is no smirk on Ignis' face, no mocking in his tone as he asks it; he genuinely wants to know.

“A suit."

“I know just the tailor,” Ignis says, reaching for his cell phone. Lightning smiles as she looks outside. 

Noctis has no idea how he does it.

He fears him a little. 

***

The tailor closes shop just for the three of them, and Noctis and Ignis both exchange knowing glances at the look on the young woman's face from the moment she sees Lightning.  'Hopelessly smote' is a look they've grown accustomed to seeing in and around the palace. Noctis coughs to hide a laugh as she sweeps right over, not bothering to give Ignis a chance to finish giving her instructions.   

"Wow do you make my suits look  _good!_  Ignis' measurements were spot on," the tailor is a blur of wild black curls and excited energy as she circles a visibly embarrassed Lightning.  She stops in front of her suddenly, head tilted.  "Also you’re really pretty. You know that, right?" 

The l'cie's face reddens at the compliment.  Noctis suspects it's not something she hears often and he smiles.  She's a walking paradox sometimes: so wise and yet so hopelessly oblivious. Noctis spots a couch and some magazines on a table in the corner and quickly makes himself comfortable.  

"Um," Lightning clears her throat, looking at Ignis over the tailor's head.  

"She requires a suit, Vida," Ignis says, quickly coming to her rescue, his presence providing a much needed buffer between the two women.  "For the New Years ball."

"Ooh yes!" Vida says, grabbing Ignis eagerly by the arm, "we should make a bold statement. I'm thinking a deep blue, or even red! Blood red!  Oh she'll turn heads for sure! And for accessories I could--"

"No red!" Lightning cuts in sharply, and the excitement in the room is brought to a screeching halt. Noctis slowly stands, seeing the tiny sparks of electricity beginning to form in the air around her fingertips.  Vida and Ignis continue to look at her in surprise, completely unaware of it. 

"Why not?" says Vida.

Lightning just shakes her head, unwilling to offer an explanation or look Noctis in the eye because she knows he's definitely going to follow up on this later.  Her hands clench into fists. The lights begin to flicker overhead, and while Vida turns her attention to the ceiling Noctis quickly crosses over and puts himself between them. 

"Black will do," Noctis says. 

"But-"

" _Black_ ," Noctis emphasizes, and he does hate himself for adding this next bit, but it's definitely necessary:  Lightning could reduce this woman's entire livelihood to rubble in the blink of an eye.  The electrical circuits in the training ground are still undergoing repairs, completely fried from not being able to handle the violent surges in electricity since her last solo practice session.  "Or we take our business elsewhere."

Vida nods and bows her head low, ashamed.  "Yes your highness."  The lights stop flickering.  

As he turns to go back to his seat Lightning mumbles a quiet, but shaky 'thank you'.  

"We'll talk later," he promises.

He doesn't miss the flash of defiance in her eyes as Vida leads her away.

***

The l'cie are both paranoid and superstitious, Noctis learns once they've left Vida's.  He knows to expect the first part given their rigid adherence to Dissolvere, but the second one catches him by surprise. After all,  _they_  were the ones who triumphed over Bhunivelze. What is left for them to be superstitious about?

Across from him Lightning shrugs, eyes fixed on the untouched coffee in front over her, fingering the business card Vida insisted she take.  “We all have our demons,” she says.   _"_ For a lot of us, the battle still hasn’t ended.  Have you never stopped to wonder why we're still l'cie even after His defeat?" 

Maybe not before, but he sure as hell does _now_.

***

Because Noctis shoved his credit card in her hand and insisted she buy whatever accessories she needed for her outfit, Lightning is not present when a random girl he’s sure he’s never met before splashes an entire glass of orange juice in his face.

“That’s for my sister!” she yells, as café staff escort her out.

Lightning returns while he’s drying himself with paper napkins and plants herself across from him in the booth, putting her shopping down beside her.  “What was that about?” 

"No idea," Noctis says.  "Did you find anything you liked?"

She ignores that question. "I take it her 'sister' disagrees."

"You saw?"

"And heard," Lightning adds, tapping her ear.  "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly, no."

"It will help if you do."

"I really think it won't."

"Hmph," and Noctis has to do a double-take because he's never gotten that sort of response from her before. ' _Hmph?'  What's that supposed to mean?!_

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing," Lightning says, standing. Her voice is unnaturally cold. "I'm ready to go if you are."

Training is particularly punishing when they get back to the training grounds later on that day, and as he stares up at her standing over him, wiping blood from his split lip he  _knows_ it has something to do with their conversation earlier.  Before he can ask however, she bows her head and swiftly turns on her heel, leaving him frowning after her in confusion.

***

"Apologize," Ignis says, during dinner that night.  

"You know I  _would_  if I knew  _what for_ ," Noctis grumbles, poking at the food on his plate. 

"Well what did you say, exactly?" Gladiolus asks.  

"Nothing, she was asking about my personal life and I didn't feel like talking."

"Maybe she's on the same page as your old man about your," and because it's Gladiolus, he's not above making quotation marks in the air, "'casual' lifestyle." Gladiolus laughs, deflecting a flying piece of broccoli Noctis hurls his way, retaliating with a piece of cauliflower.  It quickly escalates into a food fight, minus Ignis' participation, until Ignis is abruptly jumping out of his seat to his feet. The laughter at the table subsides as Noctis looks over his shoulder.  

"Lightning," Ignis gestures to the table, "please, join us."

Gladiolus kicks Noctis under the table.

"Yeah, come join us," Noctis says, but even he doesn't believe the enthusiasm in his tone.  He kicks Gladiolus back as revenge.

"No, thank you," Lightning says, looking  _only_  at Ignis.  "I'm going for a walk."

"Would you like some company?"

"Thank you, but no."

"Enjoy your walk, then."

Noctis keeps his head down as she passes, waiting for the doors that open up into the gardens to shut before he looks up again.  Oh boy if looks could kill.

"What?"

"I think you need to go for a walk, too," Ignis replies.

***

After multiple warps in random parts of the entire palace grounds he finally tries his luck with the rose maze and finds her in the centre, staring at the frozen over fountain.   _This is getting old_ , Noctis thinks.  He draws the thick coat Ignis lent him tighter around himself and clears his throat as he approaches--just to give her some sort of warning (even though she probably could hear his heartbeat from a mile away). She doesn't look up until he's right in front of her.  

"Um," Noctis says, staring at the ground, "I wanted to apologize."

"Do you know what you're apologizing _for_?" Lightning asks, a little irritated.

Noctis feels his face and ears burn as he makes the admission. "Not. . . really."

She looks back to the sculpture again, patting the space beside her on the bench.  They stay quiet like that for a while after he sits, watching the snow fall.  He tries to sneak furtive glances in her direction to try to gauge her mood, but her face is a blank slate.  

"I forget how young you are, sometimes," she says finally.  She doesn't look at him.  "And it's not your fault--there's still a lot for you to learn.  And because I want you to learn, I think it's only fair that I ask you to let go of these notions of equality between us."

He blinks. Takes a second to go over what she just said in his head. "Why?" 

"Because it doesn't work."

"But I thought we were getting somewhere."

"Really," Lightning says, eyes slightly narrowed.   _Uh-oh._  “Do you remember earlier today, when that girl splashed juice on your face?”

As if any well-adjusted individual could forget _that_. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember the conversation we had afterward?”

Of course Noctis does; he’s only been replaying it over and over in his head trying to figure out where he messed up for the past few hours.  “A little,” Noctis says. 

“Well that conversation, and others like it we’ve had in the past is _exactly_ why us treating each other as equals is not going to work.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’ve been following me—” Noctis opens his mouth to protest, but quickly shuts it remembering the endless times Stella has lectured him on _how well_ women take to being _interrupted_ “—yes of course I noticed: your footwork is _horrendous_ ; we’ll work on that—you’ve been asking me _all_ kinds of questions about the past, and I have been more than accommodating because I do believe that understanding each other will help make my mission here easier.  Unfortunately, when it comes to the reverse, when it comes to _me_ asking questions about _you_ , you never fail to steer the conversation elsewhere or shut me down altogether.  And that’s where the problem lies: you’re not reciprocating the equality you preach.  You’re a hypocrite, Noctis Lucis Caelum,” Lightning says.  She stands.  “And that’s why it’s never going to work.”

She leaves him out there in the cold, sitting in a daze until Ignis is shaking his shoulder asking him if he’s trying to die of hypothermia.  Noctis knows the question is rhetorical, but—it _would_ be a nice reprieve from dying of shame when Regis finds out (he always finds out).

***

Regis doesn't find out (this time). But  _Sazh_  does, and only because he’d asked Noctis if he knew why Lightning was ‘broodier than usual’ and Noctis had fallen into the trap of stupidly responding with ‘She didn’t tell you?’

"She's right you know," Sazh says, after they go over every detail of Noctis' ineptitude. 

"Any ideas on how I can fix it?"

"Oh you'll figure it out," Sazh winks, and goes back to tending to his bonsai.  

Noctis has the nagging suspicion Regis has a hand in this.

***

The training ground is surprisingly empty a week later when he finally musters up the courage to talk to Lightning again, which is. . . odd.  She practically lives there.  Before he has a chance to turn around and leave, Gladiolus grabs him in a headlock from behind and grinds his knuckles into Noctis’ hair. 

“She’s in a meeting with your old man,” Gladiolus practically yawns while Noctis struggles against his hold, “asked if I spar with you instead.  So. You up for it?” He dodges a fist to the gut as Noctis finally breaks free.

“What’s it about?”

Gladiolus stretches out a hand, summoning his claymore.  “Business first.”

The great thing about Gladiolus is that he never pries—about anything; not like everyone else does. He’s content with never finding out altogether, or simply waiting till Noctis brings up whatever’s been eating at him up in conversation.  They’re lying on their backs, watching the ‘clouds’ floating past when Gladiolus clears his throat. 

“Do you ever have dreams where you wake up wondering if they were real?”

“Whoa, heavy stuff,” Noctis says with a laugh.  “Why do you ask?”

“A couple of years ago I met this girl during a field exam in Duscae— _smoking_ hot, eyes like emeralds.  Or maybe it was _her_ who met me,” Gladiolus muses. “Anyway, the field exam was a success, high-fives all around.  Me and the guys decide to get shit-faced to celebrate.”

“And your instructor was okay with this?”

“Hey man, it was his idea,” Gladiolus replies, shrugging.  “So we get to drinking. Instructor decides to call it a night, tells us to make sure we’re back at the campsite before 0500 hours or he’s leaving our asses behind, blah, blah, blah and then he goes.  Then she walks in.  We spend most of the night egging each other on about who’s going to go talk to her, and this one guy ‘Rob’—dumbass—decides to be ‘brave’. Gets up. Doesn’t take _two_ steps before he trips and falls over himself.”

“Home time for 'Rob',” Noctis snickers.

“You know it," Gladiolus agrees. "The night goes on, more and more of us start to leave.  I’m half-tuned into what the guys are saying, and half-watching her in the corner of my eye. It’s like, I  don’t know, there’s something _about_ her, but not the good kind of something.  The night goes on.  Eventually it’s just me sitting in the booth a little after one o'clock in the morning, and she's still at the bar making small talk with the owner.  I’ve switched to water at that point, but what happens next is just unreal. 

Out of _nowhere_ this. . . _thing,_ this _man_ bursts right through the window.  His clothes are ripped, shoes are missing, hands and feet are covered in blood.  His eyes have no irises—they’re completely black.  I shit you not Noct, he looks fresh out of the set of a zombie flick: patient zero.  The owner gets out his shotgun, warns him to get out.  Man dives after him anyway—gun goes off.  Point blank in the chest.  Goes down.  Here’s the creepy thing though: there’s _no blood_.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Didn’t even sound like it hit human flesh, no squishy noises, no bones shattering. Sounded more like someone shooting into a brick wall.  I’m on my feet, a little more sober now and staring, sword out because why not?  The woman at the bar turns in her seat, martini in hand, just keeps on drinking, keeps on watching me and the owner.  Like she already knows what’s going to happen.

Owner goes to check on the man, I catch her eye as I’m following and she shakes her head, so I hang back.  ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ she tells the old timer.  The man’s eyes pop open. He grabs the owner, takes a bite right out of his neck.  Old man goes down, limp as a noodle. The man tosses him away and turns on me, tries to do the same thing he just did to the old man.  Fight ends with my sword _right_ through his chest.  ‘You have to chop his head off,’ the woman goes.  I turn, and look at her like— _what_?  The man wakes up again, pulls himself along the sword to get closer to me and takes a bite right out of my arm.  ‘Dumbass,’ the woman says.  Next thing I know, Rob’s waking me up telling me to haul ass.”

“Weird,” Noctis says after a beat.  “So why you telling me that?”

“Well, a few days after your birthday is Fero Pondus, right?” 

“Oh yeah,” Noctis had completely forgotten.  “Why do you ask?”

“Are you going to watch?”

“I’d _like_ to.”

“But?”

“Lightning asked me to stay away.” 

“Damn,” Gladiolus mutters.  “I was gonna ask you to check something out for me.”

“Like what?”

“Cor asked me to meet him in his office but I got there early, and there was a file on his desk: CLASSIFIED.  So of course I take a look. It’s a file on the l’cie who’s going to be in town in a couple of days. I pissed my pants when I saw her face.”

“Maybe it’s coincidence.”

“Maybe not,” Gladiolus replies, holding out his right arm.  Near the centre of his forearm is a faded, half-moon shaped scar. "If you ever do get the chance to sit in," Gladiolus says, "can you arrange a meeting with me and the l'cie?"

"Yeah, sure.   _If_ I get the chance to sit in," Noctis adds, because he really can't see that happening, especially with Lightning pissed at him.  Gladiolus gets up and dusts himself off before helping Noctis up.

"Thanks, Noct."

"For what?" Noctis looks at him cynically, "I haven't done anything--"

"For  _listening_ , you dork," Gladiolus says, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, you should probably start getting ready for the party, huh?"

***

The gates of Lucis palace are set to open at precisely 7:30PM, and Noctis knows, from the fifty plus voice messages on his phone that his father is practically hyperventilating because it's five minutes to, but screw it, he needs to clear the air between him and Lightning otherwise his focus will be a hundred percent concentrated on trying to fix things.  

"Light?" he knocks.  "Are you in there?"

The door opens and Lightning is in her suit; stunning--in only the way a l'cie can be reasonably expected to be with minimal effort--but also very noticeably disgruntled. "I broke the cuff links Vida gave me," she mutters, holding them up.  

Noctis holds back a laugh.  "You can borrow mine."

***

Because he doesn't want her scampering off--like she  _usually_ does, like he  _knows_  she's going to do, he makes the executive decision of insisting that he be the one to fasten the cuff links. She's quiet the whole time, sitting impossibly still as usual, but he knows she's tensed, ready to spring as soon as he's finished.  So he takes his time.  

"I've been thinking about what you said last week," Noctis begins.  "And you're right.  I haven't been treating you the way you _should_ be treated.  So I want to apologize for that."

"Thank you," Lightning says.

"So _now_ ," Noctis grins at her, face burning hotter than the sun, "I'm going to regale you with every cringe-worthy detail of my personal life."

Lightning's eyes widen, and then her face turns equally red.  "That’s not necessary--"

"Fair's fair Light," he says, and maybe it's on account of her getting used to hearing him address her that way that she falls silent again. "So the first thing you've probably realized is that I'm not good with girls."

"The gossip among the palace staff tell me otherwise," Lightning says.  “For the record I don’t go out of my way to find out—they’re really hard to ignore.  Superhearing or otherwise.”

There’s a horrible knot forming in his stomach because he can hear judgement in her tone, but he soldiers through it—he has to. “Alright, so I get around,” Noctis says. “But it’s not the same as being able to ‘connect’ with people.  I’ve never been good at that.”

“ _Connect._ ” Lightning repeats, smirking. 

Walked right into that one.  But even as he thinks it, he can’t help but smile.  He’s no expert at making friends, but this really has to rank highly on the list of ‘weirdest ways to go about it’.  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Might as well,” Lightning replies. “You were saying?”

So he tells her. He tells her _everything._ Every gory detail that induces second-hand embarrassment and more.  About how he uses fake names, sometimes disguises on every night out.  About how he’s deathly afraid of commitment and not knowing if he wants kids or not—Lightning raises an eyebrow at that, but says nothing; he knows why, but says nothing too—about how he’s sure he’s going to fuck everything up once Regis goes because look at how ‘well’ he’s doing with the l’cie.  (Lightning just shrugs—she’s too blunt sometimes). He tells her about a girl he knew ( _knows_?)—Stella; doesn’t name her out right because Dissolvere—goes into detail about how amazing she is at this whole responsibility thing, at how she’s his best friend, and mainly how she’s become the biggest ‘what if’ in his life.  And when Lightning asks him why ‘what if’, it’s funny how easy it is to finally admit to himself what he did: that he chose his kingdom over her. 

He admits to Lightning, shamefully, about how he still keeps tabs on her because there had been this kiss— _the_ kiss—between them this one time, and how his whole world seemed to stop and restart all at once when it happened. And Lightning at this point is probably internally gagging—she has to be; no one has _that_ good of a poker face.  It doesn’t matter; he can’t seem to stop; he _doesn’t_ want to stop—it’s all word vomit at this point, but he doesn’t care; he’s been holding onto this shit for way too long that it’s been chewing him out from the outside in, that the sweet release from finally having someone there to hear is much too addictive to stop now. 

He’s never been able to tell this to the guys—not even _Ignis_ and he doesn’t know why; Ignis has to be the most tolerant, most understanding person he knows. It’s so ridiculous that he’s telling _Lightning_ of all people, he’s only known her for what—going on two years now?—when he’s known the guys and Stella—nicknamed ‘Diana’ for the purposes of this conversation—for practically all his life.

And then he stops, goes very quiet as he thinks about everything he’s told Lightning so far and the awkwardness returns—mostly on his part--and he kind of wants to retreat inside himself for the next million years.  That's when the most unexpected thing happens:

She squeezes his arm.  Just the once out of comfort, and he knows it probably doesn’t mean anything to her, and he’s definitely overthinking it but— _fuck it_.  This tiny gesture is _everything_ to him because _progress_.  She’s never once initiated contact between them—training doesn’t count—she's not even a _hugger_ , Sazh said so this _surely_ has to be a sign that she’s lowering her guard--it _has_ to be. 

“Hey,” she says, one corner of her mouth quirking. “You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”

Etro, it’s a miracle he hasn’t already spontaneously combusted.  He’s _never_ blushed this much, much less in front of a _woman; much less the Lucis l’cie herself_. _Of course, Noct, OF COURSE._   But he builds a bridge; gets over it.  He goes on to tell Lightning how much it _stings_ , hearing that ‘Diana’s seeing someone, how he sometimes takes to drinking while he reads about it online in the tabloids when he really feels like torturing himself. He tells her how much he hated that day he had to say good-bye to her. How much he hates saying ‘good-bye’ in general. And then he tells her why he hates 'good-bye' so much: he tells her about Rygdea _._ _Rygdea._ He tells her how not being able to say those two simple words to him has definitely messed him up for life, because now he's afraid of letting people in for the sole reason that they may drop unexpectedly out of his life just like Rygdea did.

"I'm sorry," Noctis says quietly, staring at his hands.  "I'm not as well-put together as I've been pretending to be since meeting you. I don't have it all figured out. My father hasn't even passed on the _Commandare_ to me because I keep putting it off--"

" _Noct,"_ Lightning says, exasperated, and he whips his head up so fast, the effect is dizzying.

She called him 'Noct'. She called him 'Noct'.   _You did it asshole, you're in! All that work over two years and all you had to do was tell her about yourself._ "Y-yeah?" 

"It's  _fine_ ," Lightning says.  "Not having all the answers, not knowing what to do--I've been there, done that. That's what learning is for. You're not going to become the man your father is--or the man who surpasses his father--overnight. Just like how you're not going to be able to master your powers overnight.  There's work involved; _a lot_ of work."

"Yeah. You're right," Noctis smiles, getting to his feet.  He offers a hand and her nose wrinkles a little, but he pretends he doesn't see it.  "Shall we go?"

***

They go.  His father hugs him and hisses that they're going to 'talk about this later' after pulling him close enough so no one else can hear, and _normally_ Noctis would be scared--but he's not. He's just made a shit-ton of progress in just under an hour with Lightning that everything pales in comparison. He can feel the eyes of the upper echelons of Lucis aristocracy on him, can almost hear them whisper into the ears of their eligible daughters to keep their eyes on the prize, so he quickly excuses himself before any of them decide to approach, and makes a beeline for Lightning.  Who, humorously, is standing off to the corner still as a statue, looking faintly lost, waiting for the fittings of the ballroom to accept her as their own.  

"Having fun?" he asks.  

"Can't you tell?" Lightning answers drily, before nodding at the row of--yes, they're _actually_ standing in a row--of young women his age talking among themselves and 'subtly' sneaking glances his way from across the dancefloor.  "Shouldn't you be out there?" she asks, " _Connecting?"_

"Yeah I'm not ready for that," Noctis mutters, earning a quiet laugh from her.  He catches his father giving him the stink-eye from the other side of the ballroom and grimaces a little.

"Problem?"  Lightning asks, taking a glass of wine from a server's tray when she approaches.  The girl almost trips over herself when Lightning politely thanks her with a smile. _Typical_ , Noctis thinks.  

"I'm supposed to kick start the celebrations by dancing with any of the eligible young women present..  They're going to be announcing it soon."

"So get going then," Lightning says. She sounds bored.  

"I would, but my usual dance partner isn't here. . . " and then the idea hits him. "Hey, Light. . . "

" _No_."

"I didn't even say anything--"

"Because I know what you're going to say," Lightning replies. "And my answer is no."

***

"Ow!"

"I _told_ you," Lightning hisses through a forced smile, while Noctis navigates them around the ballroom.  "I don't dance.  I'm a knight of Etro-"

"Ow! Okay, " Noctis states, "you stepped on my foot on purpose that time."

"Did not!" 

"Did too," Noctis replies, pretending not to see how _livid_ his father is right now.  "Stop looking down, you're making me nervous."

" _I'm_ making  _you_ nervous," Lightning repeats, indignant.

"Yes, _you're_ making me nervous," Noctis clarifies, weaving them past his father's table just to rub it in. Beside Regis Sazh bursts into laughter, and Cor, standing quietly behind them turns his gaze upward, presumably praying to Etro telling Her to expect another soul in the Unseen very soon.  "I'm doing all the work here," Noctis says, "the least _you_ can do is keep up--it's really not that hard."

"Goddess are they starting up _another_ song?" Lightning sounds at a loss now.

"Don't worry," Noctis promises, "just a couple more and we'll be home-free."

"A  _couple_?" Lightning repeats, blanching.  He catches her as she stumbles forward into him, and quickly rights her.  

"Oh, yeah, we're meant to dance quite a few times tonight. . . I thought I told you--"

"I'm kicking your ass tomorrow," Lightning avows, glaring daggers.  She squeezes his hand hard to punctuate the threat and he winces.  "And I'm really going to enjoy it."

Oh boy.  He doesn't doubt  _that_ for a second.

***

When they finally make their escape, Lightning decides more alcohol is in order to wash away the humiliation and Noctis retreats to outside to the balcony, staring out at the lights of Insomnia ahead of him.  Lightning returns a little while later, having procured an expensive-looking bottle of wine and two glasses.  

"They're beginning the countdown soon," Lightning says, pouring him a glass. "Everyone's gathered downstairs in the courtyard."

"Can l'cie get drunk?" Noctis asks her, curious, because he's tipsy and she looks really _really_ sober.  And really, _really_ pretty, it's hard to tear himself away.   _Are you real?_ He refrains from asking while they drink.  

"If we make a concerted effort," Lightning replies.  And then she tilts her head at him.  "You don't want to go down?" 

"Nah.  It's a tradition to have to kiss someone at midnight. I'd rather avoid that potential minefield altogether."  He shudders at the prospect.  

"I take it Diana was your kissing partner," Lightning says, taking a sip.  

"Yeah, just a peck on the cheek and a 'Happy Birthday Noct.'. I think it's only just starting to hit me that this is my first New Years without her here.  It's a bit intimidating to think of how the next few years are going to go from now on."

Lightning sets her glass down on the ground and steps away. Noctis' shoulders slump a little. She's probably bored to death from hearing about Diana--not that he blames her. 

In the distance, the chanting finally begins.   

 

> _"10, 9, 8. . ."_

"You could always create new traditions," Lightning says.

She's _still_ here?  Noctis laughs and rolls his eyes. Easier said than done.

 

> _"3, 2-"_

Lightning's fist presses gently into his back as '1' is shouted out. Every bone in Noctis' body freezes.  

"Happy Birthday Noct," she whispers.  The glass falls from Noctis' hand; shattering into a million pieces.  

  _'Always.  No matter what.'_

 A thousand fireworks shoot up into the sky, exploding in an astounding display of light and color-  

 

-and Noctis Lucis Caelum is breathless for a different reason altogether.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lightning's suit [here](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/ed/bb/43/edbb43047fe5a0bc14fa7fa077d355d5.jpg) or [here](https://40.media.tumblr.com/c7b395098373777cdefb23c46cd78801/tumblr_o21mi4OQkm1sfy3b9o4_400.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
> Was that enough lightis? lol more to come in the next few chapters 
> 
> I thought the song was hilarious and at the same time fitting for this chapter - don't judge


	28. In Memoriam [Part vii]: The Commandare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis receives the Commandare, finally.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place at the conclusion of Year Four. Noctis is 22.  
> Sean Bean reference here  
> Also cameos :)  
> References to other Final Fantasy's also

When Regis pulls off the glove of his right hand to reveal the Commandare scorched into his palm, Noctis can’t stop himself from letting out a nervous, stuttered breath.  He wasn't in the room when Regis first received it, but the screams that came from the throne room all those years ago paint a very,  _very_  vivid picture.   _And now it's my turn._

“Noct,”

Noctis jerks his head up, guilty, because he hates when his father worries. 

“If you don’t want to—” 

“No.  I’ve been putting it off for too long.” To prove it he leans forward, resting his elbow on the desk and grasps his father’s hand.  “Come on, let me have it.” 

“Lightning,” Regis calls.

Lightning's hand comes to rest atop of theirs.  On the back of that hand, perfectly mirroring the mark on Regis' palm is the Commandare.  She closes her eyes.  The triskelion glows to life, slowly begins to rotate anti-clockwise.  One of the spirals vanish, peeling away from her skin and evaporating into the air in a tiny black cloud. 

Then the pain Noctis has been dreading—it comes, sharp and precise, a million needles stabbing into every single nerve as the mark begins to change hands.  Regis tightens his grip to keep Noctis grounded the moment he feels him flinch.  He feels one spiral slowly etching itself into his skin and tries to take deep breaths, like he’s seen Lightning do, but such an exercise is more suited to keeping track of the seconds and then minutes that crawl by at a snail's pace.  He clenches his jaw, locks every limb tight and forces himself to endure.  

His body is at war with his mind by the time the second spiral begins its course: half of him wants saw his own arm off, the other half is wondering why he hasn’t done so already. 

“ _Hey_.” Lightning’s other hand lands on his shoulder and he looks up, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah?"

“You’re doing well.” 

“Doing well,  _considering_?” He knows it's silly to even pretend he's not in pain, but he hates looking so vulnerable, so  _human_  in front of her.  

"Yeah.  _Considering."_

~ 

Sazh takes all his charges to Nautilus Park as a group outing to ensure they won’t be disturbed when Lightning asks, citing a past incident involving chocobos gone wild and a baroness (Noctis makes sure to tuck this away for future conversations).  Standing under the willow trees, watching them pile into buses, chattering and laughing excitedly, not a care in the world, Noctis can't help but feel just a little bit envious. 

"We'd better get started," Lightning says. 

He follows her deeper into the grounds, away from the gates, shoving his hands into his jacket for extra warmth as a cool autumn breeze blows right through him.  Ahead of him, Lightning continues on, one hand rising to hold down the strands of hair that have been loosened by the wind.   _Hard to believe it’s natural,_ Noctis thinks.  He’s about to ask if she’s aware of the fansites dedicated to her scattered all over the internet, and of the very convincing cosplays he’s seen when she suddenly stops, and gestures at the willow trees swaying back and forth above them.  Their leaves haven't grown back, yet, but they're enchanting nonetheless.

"I used to have these really horrible nightmares when I was little,” he finds himself saying.  “They kind of went away when my dad brought me here.  Something about this place, or maybe it's Sazh's presence altogether it's—I can't really explain it.  Like I can forget everything that's going on in the world and just. . .  _be_." He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, looking back at her.

"You've picked the right place then," Lightning says. She reaches to touch his wrist to guide him over, but drops her hand back to her side.  

"What-"

"Do you trust me?" 

Goddess, how many times are they going to have this conversation?  "You already know the answer to that."

"The next step is intimate, requires us to get into each other's personal spaces. I need for you to understand that I have no ulterior motives, no emotion behind what's going to happen next: it’s just something that needs to be done, no matter how uncomfortable." 

 _Like you sacrificing yourself to save the crystal_ , Noctis almost says.  "What exactly are you going to make me do?" 

"You have to touch my l'cie mark." 

Oh _.  Oh._

From training he ķnows her brand sits in the center of her chest: a tiny slither of it peeks out above her sports bra: she's caught him staring—'leering' she says, from across the Training Ground while he sputters and tries to tell her that it was her  _mark_ not  _her_ he was staring at.

Reading his hesitation too easily she lets out a sigh. "Pretend that I've just been stabbed in the chest and you need to use a Cure spell.  You wouldn't hesitate  _then_ , would you?" 

"No, but. .  ." 

"I said  _pretend_.  Not like anyone'd ever be fast or lucky enough to even land that kind of hit," she smirks, and hearing a boast like that gives Noctis determination.

"Fine. Let's get this over with."

He lets her guide him to sit across from her in the grass, then waits a moment. Watching his reaction carefully, she removes her blazer and lays it neatly on the ground.  Next to go is her tie.  He finally cracks when she rolls out the tails of her blouse from her pants and begins unbuttoning it. It is the most uncomfortable strip-tease in the world.

"Um,"

She pauses in the middle of the third button.  "What?"

"Is that really—mean do you  _have_  to uh—” 

She gives him a 'look' and keeps going. The way she carries on, he might as well be a tree or a rock in the background.   _She really does not care_.  A flash of silver against her navel catches his eye. A belly ring?  "When did you get that?"

"Mm, got it last year.  Selphie wanted one and Sazh had the nerve to tell her she could get one if I did too."

"And you went through with it?" Noctis asks, awed.  He didn't think she'd cave to that kind of goading.

"Well, partly because Selphie got straight A's on her progress report and she wanted it for her birthday."

"But mostly because Sazh didn't think you would," Noctis surmises, chuckling. 

"Zell thought he'd try the same thing with a tattoo." She shrugs off the blouse, folds it, then reaches behind her back.  He makes a tiny noise of protest as her bra slides down and quickly averts his gaze.  

"Oh  _please_ ," Lightning says. "As if  _you_  haven't seen women's breasts before."

"This is different!"  He starts to turn to glare at her but quickly remembers halfway—stops himself just in time. 

“How?" 

She's going to give him an ulcer at the rate she's going.  "It just  _is_ , Lightning.  You're my  _friend._ You really don't find this awkward at all?"  Distantly, a tiny part of him wonders if she only sees the same lanky eighteen year old boy she met four years ago _._ He’s encountered family friends of his father’s who’ve watched him grow up longer than she has, and they’ve all more or less told him ‘what a fine young man’ he’s turning out to be.  _Does she really not—_

"When you've been in this world for over a millennium, nothing fazes you anymore." Lightning says—more like sighs.  "Physical intimacy, sex—” Noctis’ ears prick up at the word: he’s not sure why he’s so surprised to hear her talk about it and quickly berates himself because he’s forgotten,  _again,_ that she  _has_ been around for centuries “—it becomes an itch to be scratched. And when all you have is each other it becomes easier to filter out personal feelings. It becomes not an issue of compatibility, but necessity.  We scratch the itch, and we move on."

He knows it’s absolutely none of his business but he honestly could not stop the words from leaving his mouth if he tried. "So. . . you and Sazh. You guys uh. . . ‘scratch the itch’, sometimes?" 

"Yeah.  Sometimes."  And then her nose wrinkles.

"What?"

"He talks a lot during. I have to hit him sometimes to make him shut up," Lightning says and Noctis snorts.

“And you guys—nothing changes between you guys? No feelings at all?  Just sex.”

“Just sex,” Lightning repeats, nodding.  "Alright, give me your hand—the one with the mark _."_   Her skin is smooth and cool when she presses his hand in the centre of her chest, but Noctis still flinches as if he's touched a burning coal.  "Noct I  _really_  need you to relax.  If we don't do this right you could effectively lose control of the crystal and me.  Then anyone would be able to take it for themselves, and that's the best case scenario.  Worst-case is the crystal turns unstable and—"

His face is on fire, it has to be. "I'm  _trying_."  

"Close your eyes."

" _What_?" 

"Do it.  Take deep breaths," she instructs, when his lids slide shut.  "You're making a bigger deal of this than it needs to be.  I just need you to relax, clear your mind and touch my mark.  That is literally  _all_  you need to do. Don't think about anything else. Don’t even  _think_  for that matter. Because I'm not." 

He nods, and inhales deeply through his nose.   _Clear my mind, clear my mind. . ._

Her palm touches his hand on her chest, and an unexpected warmth begins to build, before fizzing out.  Lightning mutters a curse under her breath and taps the left side of his chest with a finger. "There's a lot of doubt in here, a lot of insecurity.  I know you're uncomfortable, but it's  _me_ , Noct. You can trust me." 

"I  _know_  it's you. I just can't—" How the hell is he meant to be able to concentrate with her practically half-naked right in front of him?

"I have an idea," Lightning says.  "A way to get you to stop thinking, but you'll need to trust me.  If I know you well enough, it just might work." 

"I  _do_  trust you, Light.  _Please_  stop saying that.” 

“Alright, fine.” She shifts onto her knees and moves closer to him without breaking the connection between the l’cie brand and the Commandare. Her free hand drops onto his shoulder for a short moment, and then it moves slowly along his shirt, callused fingers skimming past his collar bone, up past his neck, until she is cupping his cheek. She waits, eyes searching until he finally understands, and then she moves in closer. Noctis’ pulse begins to quicken—

—flatlines.  

The effect is immediate, but fleeting: the warmth from earlier returns, building quickly to erupt powerfully in his chest, spreading all over his body, permeating every cell. His eyes flutter shut and he, miraculously, stops thinking—just  _feels_.  And,  _Etro._ What he feels is a mixture of things: elation, euphoria, strength _. . ._ an alarming degree of  _rightness,_ of familiarity.  

He knows he shouldn't, but somehow his other hand finds its way to her waist, lightly resting. He isn't sure if the sound she makes in response is out of panic or just a low, absent-minded hum:  she doesn't push him off nor does she pull him closer.  Eventually the high begins to die down, and as he comes back to earth, her hand leaves his cheek, moving back to his shoulder to gently push him away. 

And then it’s over.

When he opens his eyes again she already has her back to him, bra clasped and reaching for her blouse. That’s when he sees the scars: faded and criss-crossing viciously all over her back. Having grown accustomed to seeing her skin sew up seamlessly over and over, the sight triggers a disturbing revelation: she had to have gotten those  _prior_  to becoming a l’cie. 

 _Prior_.

“Light. .  . ”

The more he reflects on everything she’s told him, the more he realizes he’s never actually asked her about her personal life.  It's always been about what the world was like back then, how her powers work, every little detail of Odin’s armor down to his chain mail, how Bhunivelze was defeated. . . 

 _I really don't know her at all.  I don’t know who she was before becoming a l’cie.  I don’t know who she is_  now. _She’s always been quick to answer my questions and I’ve always been too distracted, too_ enamored _about ‘the past’ to find out about_ hers _._

“So I guess that worked,” he hears Lightning say. 

“Yeah. Guess so.”

“I'm impressed,” Lightning says, glancing over her shoulder. “Seeing as I was basically  _topless_  and in your lap and you didn’t even  _look_."

"Of course I didn’t.  You're my friend," he says, but the words feel strangely empty and hollow this time. 

"Also," Lightning adds, now on her feet and working on her tie.  "I think you should consider lip balm. . . for next time.”

There's going to be a next time? 

"For your next squeeze," Lightning goes on to say.  "I won't fault you for technique or enthusiasm, but it definitely hurt a little bit.  If you want them to stick around—" 

"Moisturize, got it," Noctis cuts her off quickly, face going red again.  "Anything else?"

She sits there thoughtfully for a moment. "I was thinking it probably didn't rank anywhere near comparable to your 'time-stopping' kiss with Diana.  Shall we go?”

Diana?

“Uh, yeah,” he says, falling into step beside her.  He decides not to fixate too much on why it took so long for him to remember who ‘Diana’ is because they’re friends—partners. She doesn’t and more importantly  _can’t_  see him ‘that way’.  This was just an itch that needed to be scratched.

(Right?)

~ 

 

While the Dissolvere explicitly prohibits him from stepping foot on Tenebrae soil and vice-versa for Tenebrae political figures, no provision (in an official capacity) has ever been made for technological mediums which can effectively achieve the same result.  This is the argument Noctis plans to use when either Ignis or his father inevitably catch him video conferencing Stella. 

It’s been _years_. He doesn't expect her to answer, especially with how weird and reckless that final good-bye had been, but then the chat window opens and her face fills the entire screen. She's prettier than he remembered.   _She also pushed you off a balcony and she’s taken_ , he quickly berates himself. “Uh hey,”

“Are you drunk?” Stella asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Can neither confirm nor deny,” Noctis grins.

“Well, regardless, I feel obligated to point out that this is probably in violation of the Dissolvere and that  _I_ —in the interests of maintaining amicability between our two countries, am going to hang up right this—”

“Raines says ‘as long as the crystal remains out of the discussion’,” Noctis recites confidently, “we’re good, Stell. Promise.”  After considering it, Stella shrugs. 

“You Caelums and your loopholes,” she teases.  Noctis smiles, feeling the tension ease out of his shoulders. He likes how natural and easy it is to reconnect with her after all these years. “How’s your dad?”

“Still trying to make me age faster.” Stella giggles “I think it’s working, I could have sworn I found a grey hair the other day.  How’s everyone on your side of the world? How’s Luna?”

“Everyone’s in good health, thanks. And Luna’s good: date night with Gentiana tonight.”

Noctis' eyebrows rise a little bit at the news. “Ahh so they’re finally. . .”

“ _Official_ , yes.” Stella nods. “You’ve probably read that I’m seeing someone now.”

That has to be the understatement of the century. It's  _all_  the media is fixated on, if it's not Lightning's 'outfit-of-the-day'.  Some moron—or genius, if you want to look at it that way— has finally invented a lens powerful enough to shoot photos well outside the range of the disruptive electromagnetic energy that she emits, but to be fair she  _does_  have good fashion sense— _even if all she wears is black._ “I might have seen it in the news a few times,” Noctis says.  “He's a doctor, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Does he fence?”

“ _Terribly_ ,” Stella admits and he smirks.  “But to be fair, he's more interested in saving lives than taking it."

"Hey,  _whatever_  helps you sleep at night."

"What about you, Cassanova?" At the nickname Noctis scowls.  Stella grins cheekily back.  "Yes, I've been reading up on  _you_  too. Still haven’t found that special someone?”

At certain periods of time they were all ‘special’ to him.  Not that he’d ever tell _her_ that. “It’s a steep learning curve.”

“That is true.  So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Anything, nothing." Specifically, anything to help him forget about how weird today was.  Noctis unplugs his laptop and leaves his desk so he can lie in bed while they talk.  “Tell me what you've been up to.  Talk politics to me.”

“But politics bores you.”

“ _Try me._ ”

 ~

Later on that night, just when he thinks today can’t get any weirder, there’s  a tapping at the windows.  

It’s another l'cie—tattoo on her right shoulder—and she fits the description of the l'cie Gladiolus saw in his dream.  She has the same green eyes, the same dark, wolf-mane hair as described in random conversations.  (She's also very attractive, but that's a given.)

"So I heard you received the Commandare today," she says, as soon as Noctis opens the balcony doors. There's an accent in her speech Noctis has never heard before, but he knows better than to try to pinpoint it: it's very likely such a place no longer exists. 

"You heard right," Noctis says when a yawn escapes him, suddenly.

"Aww don't worry pet," she smiles. "I won't take long.  I just came to relay a message for you from the Seeress.”

 _A message from the--_  "I thought I wasn't allowed to talk to the-"

"You're not. That's why you’re talking to me."

"Right."  _Well_   _that definitely can't be good_ , Noctis thinks, if the Seeress has to exploit a loophole.  “So. . . the Seeress—”

"She asks that whatever you see from now on, that you 'please keep an open mind’."

"About what?"

The l'cie just snorts and leaps into the night.

~

 _The knife in her hand is coated in blood, dripping quietly into the sand.  It is the only sound she can hear in the world.  A lump forms in her throat; sticks.  The woman on the ground is no longer breathing, no longer—_ anything.   _She is a corpse with its insides spilled on the ground beside her, eyes wide and glassy, staring blankly ahead.  Her mouth hangs open and slack in a crooked ‘O’. Lightning wants to look away, wants to get away, but guilt keeps her gaze_   _rooted._

_“Light,” Serah calls softly from behind._

_"I didn't mean to—I didn't. . ." It’d all happened in a blur: she’d rushed at her and Lightning moved—_ it was instinct _,_ it was an accident.It was her or us, Serah.   _She falls onto her hands and knees and starts dry-retching, feels her stomach turning over and over, feels her nose running, her eyes stinging._ “ _She had a family. The Order was going to hurt her family.  Serah she was only trying to—and I—" she leans forward and retches.  Another life taken to save their own._

 _Serah's hand curls softly around Lightning’s shoulder.  The other rubs her back. "I_ know _," she whispers.  She pries the blade from Lightning's hands and forces her to her feet.  The knife leaves an ugly stain in her skirt after she wipes it clean. "We need to go.”_

~

"Concentrating a little hard there," Gladiolus remarks the following day over lunch.  His eyes are on Noctis’ untouched plate. "Unless you prefer your steak extra, extra,  _extra_ tender," he says, and Noctis sets down his fork, giving up on trying to find his appetite.  

"I think I met the l'cie you were talking about,” Noctis says. 

“When?”

“Last night.” He pours himself a glass of water and takes a tiny sip.  Then another, and another. With the image of that woman’s corpse still fresh in his mind he doesn’t trust his stomach with anything else right now. “She landed on my balcony.”

“You sure it was her?”

“Yeah. You said you snapped a picture on your phone?”

Gladiolus fishes it from his pocket, scrolls for a few seconds. “That her?”

“That’s the one.”

“Weird accent?”

“ _Really_  weird,” Noctis confirms, idly thinking about how much his anthropology lecturer would love to have her in her class.

“So what’d she say?”

“To keep an open mind.”  Technically, that was the Seeress’ message, but with Ignis present and him not firing on all cylinders today, a debate on semantics will definitely wring out the last of his patience.  And he knows Ignis means well, so there’s no point in arguing.  The message is pretty harmless no matter which angle you approach it from.

“What do you need to ‘keep an open mind about’?” Ignis asks, looking up from his laptop.

“Hell if I know,” Noctis says.  The image of Lightning’s bloodied hands returns centre stage and he pushes his plate away, chair scraping loudly against the floor as he stands. If he stays any longer around all this food he’s going to throw up.  “I’m going to go. . .” Sleep is definitely not in the cards “train, for a bit.”

“Need a partner?” Gladiolus offers.

“Yeah, why not,” Noctis decides. “Meet me there in twenty.” 

“You sure you don’t wanna nap first, sleepyhead?”

~

 _A blast of ice-cold water to the face drags her back to the waking world.  Her eyes are puffy and swollen; it takes everything she has to open them by even a slit.  Her hands are bound tight and raised above her head by chains etched in Bhunivelze’s script, suspending her just a few inches above the ground.  They're_ _meant_ _to suppress her power._ _‘_ Meant’ _to.  She isn’t l’cie, but she makes a very convincing one._

_“Where are they?”_

_She knows she could feed them lies to give herself a brief respite from the torture—she gives them nothing.  She would rather them here, in this dark cell where noone can hear her scream instead of out there searching for Serah.  They’ll kill her when they realize, but it won’t matter then.  Serah will be long gone._ That’s all that matters:  _that Serah remains alive, that Serah remains_ safe _. It is in holding on to this hope that she finds the strength to endure._

_But even hope is not enough to stifle the wild scream that tears from her lips when the whip hisses through the air and slices her skin open._

~

Noctis’ face slams against the driver’s seat, breaking violently out of his reverie.  Through the windshield he sees a full-grown Behemoth standing in the middle of the road, one front leg pawing at the ground, preparing to charge. 

“She’s mine.” Lightning declares in the rear-view mirror to Gladiolus, a smirk on her lips.  Before any of them have a chance to react she’s outside, right hand stretched out as she runs to engage the beast, gun blade materializing. 

"A woman after my own heart," Gladiolus swoons.  For some inexplicable reason today the laugh that begins to bubble up from the pit of Noctis' stomach catches in his throat and stalls. Lightning's back is to them, armoured and ready, but he sees the scars, clear as day.

He still hears the screams.   

~

 _On the_   _tenth night, the screaming outside her cell is loud enough to rouse her into weak consciousness. She hears scattered footsteps, feels the walls shake as bodies fly against it. Hears steel clashing violently against steel before cutting into flesh and bone.  She hears her captor's voice, almost unrecognizable through the fear and pathetic attempts at pleading. Who'd have thought him capable of it?_

_"P-please," he begs, "I have a family—"_

_"The woman."  The intruder's voice is emotionless._

_"In there.  P-please I just—"_

_Steel sings through the air.  Her gaoler gives a final, agonized groan and slumps to the floor._ _The door to Lightning's cell opens immediately after, her rescuer crossing to her side in quick strides, red cloak swishing behind him.  A tonberry moves to stand in the doorway, keeping watch.  She tries to put a face to the voice she heard moments earlier while he cuts her free and lowers her gently to the ground, but it is masked save for the eyes.  They remind her of ice crystals._

 _"Serah reached our meeting place safely thanks to you," her rescuer tells her. He removes a glove to reveal the brand of Etro in the center of his palm, glowing bright in the darkness. He waves that same hand over her face.  The swelling begins to subside, the cuts on her cheek and lip sewing shut_   _. "On behalf of the Seeress I thank you for your loyalty,” he says. “Such is a rare quality to come by during these treacherous times." He moves behind her and gently peels her bloodied shift upwards, away from her skin before discarding it. She only knows by the way his breath catches in his throat the extent of how horrific her injuries are, but she is too relieved to be finally free of her predicament to care.  As more of that warm healing energy washes over her, her breathing steadies and her head becomes clearer, no longer preoccupied with pain.  "I'm only closing up the worst of it so they can heal naturally on their own—I need to conserve energy. You may have scars by the end of it.”_

 _"Take me to her." Lightning croaks, voice exhausted from all the screaming._  

_"I am sorry," the man says, but there is not a hint of emotion to suggest sincerity in those words.  He removes his cloak and wraps it over her. "I cannot.  This act of rescue was done at the Seeress' request. Serah would not have joined us otherwise."_

_"I want to see her. I need to make sure—"_

_"She not your sister anymore."_

_"_ Please _.  She's all I have—"_

 _"She is_ l'cie _. She has no more ties to_ you _or humanity. And where she goes, only a l'cie can follow." He stands and starts for the door. She tries to get up, but her knees wobble unsteadily from disuse and she crumples to the floor again. She tosses his cloak away in anger and curls into a ball, weeping as he—as_ Serah _—gets further and further away._

_When she finally falls asleep, it is with Serah's smile in her dreams and a fierce oath to protect on her lips._

~

". . . probably official l'cie business," Gladiolus is saying, when Noctis finally shakes free of that daydream and glances outside. A few metres away Lightning stands with her arms crossed, armor gone, talking to the l'cie—code-named Fang, from the file he sneaked into Cor’s office to read—he met a couple of nights earlier, presently retrieving a bright red spear from of the now dead behemoth that attacked them.  She talks while she wipes it clean against its hide, and Lightning's posture—if at all possible—goes even more rigid the longer she goes. As if coming to a decision she turns on her heel and starts for the car while Fang stands her spear on the ground and leans against it.

“What do you think a behemoth is doing wandering so close to the city?” Ignis muses.

“Change of scenery maybe?” Gladiolus chuckles. 

“Heh.  _Maybe_.”

“I need to investigate something,” Lightning says when Noctis rolls down his window.  “You guys go on ahead.”

“Is it crystal-related?”

“Yes.”

Noctis doesn’t find any comfort in the way her eyes don’t meet his. Something the other l’cie said has her rattled.  “We can wait if you want.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“It’s a long trek back to the palace from here,” Gladiolus points out.

“Don’t worry boys,” the other l’cie calls. “I’ve got a dragon.”

~

_She wanders from town to town following the hushed whispers only a man who chooses a tonberry as a travelling companion can leave in his wake.  Keeps her head down, her ears open, keeps her face muddy and hidden under the cloak he left her.  After months of fruitless searching a rumor brings her to the edge of the world, to a mountain that does not exist on any map.  At the base a greying knight, clad in bloodied and rusted armour sits at a campfire, sharpening his sword.  Perched atop of his helm on a nearby rock, a raven watches as Lightning approaches, ruby-red eyes staring guilelessly.  She is certain the lack of food in her stomach is causing her to hallucinate._

_“Only those with purpose will survive the journey,” the knight calls, just as Lightning is about to pass._

_“I have purpose,” Lightning declares, visualizing herself at the summit._   _The man she has been following could be up there._

_“Do you believe it enough to endure what awaits you at the top?”_

_“If it is enough to bring me this far from civilization, to a place where life has abandoned all hope in flourishing, then yes. I believe it is.”_

_“We’ll see.” The knight says, and he gestures her onward._

_Toward ‘Valhalla’._

~

When he closes his eyes he sees villages burning, he sees bodies piled up on top of each other. He sees Lightning watching it all, bloodied sword in hand, not a single trace of emotion in her eyes.  _I don’t know her at all._  She still hasn’t returned from her excursion, and he knows it’s terrible, but he’s slightly relieved.  The dreams—memories—worsen when he’s around her, become more vivid.

“Everything okay Noct?” Regis asks during dinner that night, pulling him back to reality.

“I. . . think so,” Noctis says, reflecting on the message Fang had left him.  _Keep an open mind._ “Dad, when you were connected to Rygdea through the Commandare did you ever. . .”

“Ahh,” the concern on Regis face is replaced by a smile. “You’re seeing her memories, aren’t you?”

“You had them too?” Regis nods. “Was it the same with Lightning?”

“You know I never got anything from her actually, but I think that’s to be expected.  The theory I have is because I was closer to Rygdea.  He always was very personable, very open.  When I was linked to Lightning she. . . well, she’s very closed off. You may possibly be the only person she really trusts if you can see her memories.”

“Is there a way to block it out?” 

“Why would you want to block them out?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, for one thing, you’d made it a matter of life and death to get to know Lightning better the moment she arrived, if only to help with her mission. And now that you have this rare insight into her life, you’ve decided you don’t?”

“Because they’re  _her_  memories.  Aren’t they meant to be—I don’t know,  _private_?”

“I guess you’d have to talk to Lightning then,” Regis muses.

“But what if I’m completely okay with not knowing any of this?  I still think we can work together just as effectively.”

“And you probably will—but then at the cost of never truly understanding her.  Think about what she’s learnt about  _you_ over the past few years. Think about what  _you’ve_ shared of yourself with her. Has she ever treated you differently as a result?  Has she ever purposefully distanced herself from you?”

Noctis rubs the back of his neck. “That’s  _different_ , dad.”  _She’s killed people_ _._

“Is it really?  Noct, I don’t think I ever would have been able to understand why Rygdea was the way he was if I never saw the life he lived before we met.  Granted, a lot of it was not pretty, but I learnt to accept it.”

“But if I  _can’t_  accept it” Noctis insists, and Regis heaves a sigh. “Is there a way to block it out?”

“Noct—”

“ _Is there a way."_

“There is,” Regis admits, reluctantly. “It would involve using the Commandare.  But talk to Lightning first.”

“I will. And thanks dad.” Noctis touches his father’s hand across the table. “Really.”

“For what?” Regis says. “I’m not in support of this.”

~

_Paddra is silent save for the sound of Lightning's footsteps while she makes her way deeper into the temple, toward the altar where the Seeress waits to receive her. Among the sea of faces is Serah’s sympathetic smile and the cold, pitiless eyes of her rescuer._

_Before she goes any further she stops right in front of him and unbuckles the cloak around her shoulders, tossing it at his feet._

_“Won't be needing that anymore,” Lightning says.  His gaze feels like daggers in her back as she continues, and she is certain—from the whispers that erupt in her wake—that he probably would have hurled them too, if he had any on his person._

_When word of the 'incident' reaches Raines, he_   _pairs them up to teach them a lesson._

_The first lesson the two learn by default of course, is that they hate each other._

~

Seeing Stella’s hair in curlers the next time he calls her is so unexpected and funny that Noctis forgets all about the disturbing memories while he almost falls out of his deskchair laughing.  Stella ignores him and continues to apply her makeup, lining her eyes with black—‘ _kohl’_ , she calls it.

“Charity dinner?” he guesses.

“Anniversary Ball for my parents,” Stella corrects, her face the epitome of concentration.  “Celebrating thirty years of marriage.” She holds up a black lacy masquerade mask. “Also it’s going to be a masquerade, exciting, right?”

“Thirty,  _wow_.”

“Also we broke up.”

“Seriously?” 

“It was a mutual thing.  We decided our busy schedules weren’t feasible enough to keep seeing each other. So we’re just friends now. Also he had such  _lousy_  footwork when we fence, I doubt my patience would have survived another year in the sparring circle.  He’s worse than you Noct.”

“Less worse, that’s me,” Noctis says.  “Are you holding up alright? You said you really liked this guy.”

“Yeah I’ll be alright.  I think. My girlfriends have already started sending me contact details of every other eligible Tenebrae male under the sun.”

“Fun times.”

“The  _most_  fun,” Stella giggles.  “So that’s my life.  Anything new happening in yours? Any _one_  new?  The New Years ball is coming up, you finally going to take someone who  _isn’t_  the l’cie?” she teases. She starts applying lipstick.

“Actually. . . I don’t think I’ll be taking her this year.”

“Why, did something happen?  Oh wait, sorry, you don’t have to answer that—”

“Don’t worry it’s not crystal-related.  And no, nothing happened.  I just don’t want to take her anymore.  We spend too much time together as it is and I think she could use at least one night away from me.  I really do need to start ‘networking’, as dad puts it.”

“Well, if you need pointers I’ll be here.”

“Or. . .” Noctis states slowly, thinking aloud, “you could be  _here.”_

“Don’t joke around Noct.”

“No hear me out, I think I can actually pull it off.”

“Not to sound full of myself, but I have a  _very_  recognizable face.”

“I  _know_.  Which is why we’re  _all_ going to be wearing masks,” he says, holding a piece of paper above his eyes.  “ _Masquerade_ , Stell.”

“You know,” Stella muses, “I think that just might work.”

“Of  _course_  it’ll work,” Noctis says, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his head and resting his boots on his desk. “I’m a genius.”

“Would I get to meet the l’cie?”

“Is that a yes?” Noctis isn’t too certain he can deliver on that front,  _but we’ll figure out something_.  “You’d have to attend the ball under an alias, of course.”

“Of course.”

“So . . . yay? Nay?”

“I’ll have to get back to you on it,” Stella says, “but for now consider me a  _tentative_  ‘maybe.”

Noctis mentally pumps a fist. 

~

_Lightning and Kurasame never spar with wooden swords. It both worries and amuses the other l’cie._

_‘Maybe it’s a pride matter,’ Rygdea says._

_‘No, I think it’s more of a ‘we’ll-use-this-as-an-excuse-to-cut-each-other-to-ribbons-without-interference-from-the-Seeress’ matter,’ Fang says, purposefully loud when Raines passes._

THEY'RE NOT TOO FAR OFF _, Odin muses, while Kurasame looks up at her from the dirt, the tip of her blade hovering close to his jugular.  The truth of the matter is that she cannot find it in herself to trust a man with her_ life _when he does not even trust her—_ or anyone else for that matter _—with his face._

_"My point," Lightning says.  Something flashes in those cold eyes at her words; something close to emotion. Anger, at the very least—she hopes._

_“Your point,” Kurasame agrees, quietly. Then he goes, and someone shoves Hope forward to take his place._

~

The man in front of Noctis looks on the verge of a heart attack while he processes the change in plans. “You want to. . . to. . .  _masquerade_?” he squeaks.

“Yes, masquerade,” Noctis repeats, feeling like a broken record. “Can it be done?” 

“W-well, we have  _already_  sent out the invitations, and the ball is in  _less than two months_  —and the theme we have chosen—the flowers—we cannot simply—”

“Cannot simply what?” Regis repeats, appearing out of thin air beside his son. Noctis snorts as the man nearly shits himself trying to bow as low as he can.  _That trick never gets old._

“Y-your majesty! I didn’t—oh Goddess,” he cries, falling flat on his face.

“Cannot simply  _what_ , Nervos?” Regis repeats, the corner of his mouth curling.  He subtly kicks Noctis in the shin to stop him from laughing out loud while the man picks himself up off the floor. 

“Your majesty, your son was requesting a change in theme to. . .” Nervos’ face pales even further. “ _Masquerade_.”

“I thought it’d be fun,” Noctis shrugs, when Regis glances at him curiously. “For a change."

“Very well,” Regis says.  He puts a hand on Nervos’ shoulder. “I have complete and utter faith that you can come through for us—”

“B-but—”

“Just as you always have done, and so  _fantastically_  year after year.”

Nervos blushes at the compliment, continuing to stutter.  “Oh! Um.   _Well,_ ”

“Unless of course you  _cannot_ this year, in which case I shall--with a heavy heart I must add--have to pass it on to —”

“No!” Nervos half screams, half shrieks, hands waving frantically. “It’s not a problem! Consider it done!” He bows and scampers off, yelling into his phone at some poor soul named Clarus. 

“So.” Regis says, nudging Noctis. “Why the sudden interest in the New Years ball?  Is it because of a girl?”

Noctis rubs the back of his neck and starts walking, trying to will the traitorous blush on his face away. Regis easily catches up.  Pounces.

“Goddess, it  _is_ , isn’t it?” he says, excited. He claps his hands together. “Wonderful!  I expect you to introduce her to me.”

“No!”

"No?"

Noctis quickly racks his mind for an explanation. “Um actually she’s. . .nervous about coming. So can we hold off on you scaring her away? She’s really aware of my title—and yours.” Not technically a lie.   _She’s also very aware of the Dissolvere.  It’s Stella, dad.  I'm taking Stella to the ball._

“Hence the masquerade,” Regis says, before pulling Noctis into a headlock. “Oh you sly little—”

“ _Dad_ ,” Noctis grumbles, trying to throw him off.  Regis releases him but not before dragging him in and kissing him wetly on the forehead. “Ugh Dad,  _seriously_.”

“Sorry,” Regis says. “I know you hate that. It’s just. . .” his eyes begin to moisten “seeing you take such steps on your own I can’t help but—”

Goddess, his life.

“Dad if you start crying in this hallway I  _swear_ —”

“Just kidding,” Regis laughs, dabbing at his eyes while he takes deep breaths to compose himself. 

“Why are you here anyway?” Noctis says, moving a safe distance away. “Aren’t you supposed to be at golf with the Accordo representative?”

“Tee-off’s not till an hour.  I came to let you know Lightning’s back. Almost bulldozed poor Arthur over—don’t forget to talk to her!” He calls when Noctis takes off down the hallway.

~

 _“He was sold out to The Order by his own friends,” Sazh tells her one night while a flask of cider is passed back and forth between them. “There’s a scar on his face he keeps as a reminder to himself never to make the same mistake again.  Not too different from what you and Serah went through—uh not that that’s any of my business,’ he adds quickly, because Kurasame just so happens to walk_   _in at that very moment._

 _Sazh_   _beats a hasty retreat with the flask while she is distracted, scrambling to safety before she can pummel him._

_(She’ll catch him later, though.)_

~

"You're worrying over  _nothing_ , Light," Fang's voice bounces against the walls of the narrow corridor, getting clearer as Noctis gets closer to the inner chamber.  "So we found a bunch of cieth,  _big fucking deal._   It’s been taken care of—done and dusted.  And did you see the state of them?  At least over a hundred years old, give or take. They could barely move!”

"It could still be an omen," Lightning says, terse.

"Oh you two and your  _omens_.  What's it gonna take for you sods to—well,  _well_ , look who it is," Fang's exasperated tone quickly turns smug as she switches targets, grinning as Noctis comes into view.  "I'd bow, but that would defeat the 'equality' thing you two have got going on wouldn't it?" 

Noctis twitches at the subtle insult, but chooses not to respond to it like Lightning does. He knows she still has reservations, but if she’s still willing to give it a try that's good enough for the both of them—he thinks. "Can we talk?"

Talking looks like the last thing she wants to do—he doesn't miss the way her eyes flicker to the crystal—but she nods anyway.  "Fang I’ll meet you outside."

"Why?  He didn't say  _alone_.”

"It was  _implied_. Out."

" _Rude_ ," Fang says, but she winks at Noctis on her way out.   

"She seems. . . nice," is the word he settles on when he hears the distant hiss of the chamber doors.  

"Actually, she's a bitch," Lightning says, but with a smile that suggests only  _she's_  allowed to say it.  "What did you want to talk about?"

"So we've been linked by the Commandare for a few days now," Noctis begins carefully.  "And I've started seeing things. From the past."  _From_ your _past_.  "I just wanted to let you know—I wasn't sure if you were aware of it, if I was  _allowed_ —"

"No, I was aware."

It takes him a few moments for that to really sink in. "You were?"

"Yes."

"And it doesn’t bother you?  That I can. . . "

"You always go on about ‘wanting to understand me better’, so I’m fine with it—but, if it gets too much for you, tell me." 

“Uh-huh. . .”

He doesn’t know which part of that sentence he should be afraid of.

**~**

_She’s halfway through the flask she’s swiped from Sazh when Serah quietly joins her on the hill overlooking Paddra—and the thirteen burning funeral pyres in front of it.  She_ _rests_ _her head on Lightning’s shoulder, arms eventually coming up to wrap around her waist._  

_“I left some food for you in your room,” Serah says. “You need to eat.  And rest.”_

_“I will,” Lightning promises. She takes another drink. She doesn’t know what Sazh adds to it to make it so potent to l’cie, but it doesn’t matter so long as it fulfils its purpose in dulling her senses enough to forget.  Forget that Lindzei was every bit as powerful, as terrifying, as_ vindictive _as the stories had promised—binding her comrade’s souls to His in a last ditch effort to thwart the Zantetsuken._

_“You and Odin did what needed to be done.  No one blames you Light.”_

_Lightning scoffs and raises the flask to her lips once more._

_A beautiful lie, if she ever heard one._

~

There _are things in this world I will never get used to_ , Noctis thinks, staring at the glittering lance that sees Lightning impaled five feet high against the walls of the Training Ground by the shoulder.

"Noct," Lightning grunts.  Blood is dripping at a steady pace into a growing red puddle on the white tile below.  She gives up on trying to wrench the weapon out and glares. “You mind?” 

“Course not,” Noctis says, and he quickly focuses on severing the bonds holding the crystal particles together. He softens the landing for her when she falls forward, awkwardly catching her against his chest.  She tilts her head up at him, nose wrinkling. He’s never realized it till standing this close to her, but Lightning has. . . freckles.

"You've gotten taller," she grouses, moving away.

“So you noticed.  Whoa,” he quickly catches her a second time after she pitches forward suddenly. “Light?” 

“I need to sit down for a minute.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He helps her to the ground and sits with his back to hers so she has something to lean on.  He waits, listening as she takes deep breaths. "You took a stronger dose today.”

“Must’ve lost a lot more blood than I thought,” Lightning mutters, hissing as torn muscle and fractured bone begin to slowly knit themselves together. "And yeah, I did."

“Why?” 

She shrugs her good shoulder carelessly.  “Was getting bored; wanted to give myself a handicap.” 

“Ouch, Light,” Noctis says, and she snickers.  “What happened to fighting ‘honorably’?” 

She snorts at this.  “ _Honor_  can take a backseat until I’m sure I won’t accidentally kill you.” 

“Yeah, well you  _did_  tell me not to hold back."

“I did,” she says, pushing herself back to her feet. “And I’m glad you didn’t.  Elixir or not, you definitely have improved.” 

“I have?” he asks, shoulders lifting as she helps him up. 

“Don't let it get to your head.”  The wound has completely healed by now, but the harsh red stain all over her tank top is hard to ignore.

Just like the scars.

"Light--"

“We should head back,” Lightning interrupts, a clear edge in her voice warning him to drop the subject, because he knows she bristles at the thought of being perceived as vulnerable. “Ignis is waiting for you.” 

~

_Odin is unsure of the exact moment when their grudging tolerance of each other blossoms into something else, but he does know the shift began to take place in the advent of Lindzei’s defeat.  At first it is guilt and regret that keeps her tethered to the seat by Kurasame’s bed-hours at a time, but it turns to concern when days become weeks and the man shows no sign of waking._

_“Mateus severed himself to shield him from the brunt of the Zantetsuken when it hit,” Violetta says, coldly cutting off Lightning’s angry outburst.  “He will wake when he is ready.  The least_ you _could do is allow him the chance to grieve.”_

 _So Lightning does. She stops visiting Kurasame  and she creates a new routine for herself as a result.  She trains Hope, she spars with Snow and Fang—occasionally Caius when he can be bothered (the others are afraid of her)—and she drinks with Sazh, tolerates to his terrible jokes and unsolicited advice because she needs the distraction that useless words and the burn of cider down her throat provides when exhaustion isn’t enough.  When she’s not training or drinking, or sparring she forces herself to eat and ‘sleeps’_   _to stave off Serah’s worrying. Odin finds it humorous that the girl cannot tell the difference between sleeping and ‘meditating’._

 _On the day that Kurasame finally wakes, (the first day of autumn, Odin notes, in hindsight) she is in the middle of drilling Hope on how ‘loud’ and horrendous his footwork is and Alexander is_ seething  _beside Odin in Valhalla, hissing for_   _him to tell Lightning he will show her ‘just how fucking loud and horrendous’ he can be when Sazh hurries into the fray with the news.  Without another word, Lightning passes him her wooden sword (and Hope), and stalks off._

_He listens to the thoughts driving her footsteps forward, reads the nervousness in the shaking hands at her sides, but decides not to comment on it.  She is resolved in ending this war._

_It is good enough._

~

Some days, it isn’t the dreams Noctis fights to forget.  Some days he's more focused on punching holes through the smug faces he sees in the black leather of the sandbag than actually working up a sweat.  The hits come harder as soon as he senses Lightning’s presence in the Training Ground, the rock music a sudden roar in his ears while she holds the sandbag steady for him.

He’ll tell her later how well today's diplomatic outing went—ribbon-cutting at a newly renovated hospital in Hirudo—he’ll talk about he didn’t stutter during his speech, how he kept his eyes focused on the back of the room, like he and Ignis practiced, how it’s all starting to become—dare he say it—  _routine_. He’ll tell her that he’s just working out some stress right now, because he’s got another appearance to make tomorrow, and hasn’t finished prepping for it. 

He tells her this enough times that it becomes a poem he can recite over and over.

What he  _won’t_  tell her, what he’ll  _never_  tell her are the snide comments that creep up, how some days they're easy to tune out. How today almost wasn't one of those days.  If not for Ignis’ grip on his elbow—'don't give them what they want Noct'— he  _knows_  he would have turned around right then and there and done a hell of a lot more cutting than the program originally planned for. 

_“Heard her room’s right next door to his at the palace. You reckon they’re. . . ?”_

_“Dude, don't even_ joke _. Face and body like hers? There’s no way he’s_ not  _hitting that.”_

 _“But I thought she was a_ lesbian _—you know, always wearing those suits_.” 

Lightning waits until exhaustion hits, until every blow becomes infrequent, weaker. He rests his head against the bag eyes squeezed shut and panting while he yanks the earphones out.  He wishes there were some way for him to siphon off the patience she has in abundance, some way to channel that enviable serenity of hers—if only to help power through this unprovoked negativity.  The voices are a broken record in his head, taunting him, but anger refuses to translate to energy.

"Your father told me I should be with you at all times," she says when he opens his eyes again.  “I have told him that Ignis  _and_ Gladiolus are more than enough, like you and I agreed, but. . . ” Noctis sighs, and nods into the black leather. 

“Caelum—”

“I’m just bummed that you won’t find any excitement in it, that’s all.  These things get boring really fast.”

“I’ve lived through enough ‘excitement’.  Boring would actually be a blessing,” Lightning says.  Even though there’s a slight smile on her lips, it feels morbid when he thinks of all the death and bloodshed he’s seen.

He doesn’t know how she does it. 

He's sure he doesn't _want_ to know.

~

Is it by some twist of fate that Kurasame’s brand sits in the center of his chest, much like Lightning’s? _Odin muses, in the months leading up to Bhunivelze’s fall.  Is one still considered l'cie with their brand now white and useless?  Is Kurasame still l'cie with Mateus gone?_

 _Or is he human._ Is it his humanity that draws you to him?  

Is it truly guilt that keeps you by his side?

Or is it something else. . .

~

Lightning’s favourite film genre is comedy—specifically the romantic kind.  Noctis supposes he shouldn’t be surprised; she _did_ say that she preferred boring.

It’s a revelation he discovers by accident when he drunk-warps one night on a dare onto his balcony and barrel rolls right through the open doors to splay in a most undignified mess of limbs onto the bedroom floor. 

“This is. . . not my room. . . ” Noctis realizes quietly, seeing no messy clothes strewn on the floor, no posters of his favorite musicians and movies on the walls, makeup neatly arranged on the vanity. . .

“Well I suppose if you have to get  _one_ thing right tonight,” Lightning murmurs, from the bed.

 _Ahh shit.  She’s still awake?_ “Sorry, I’ll be out in. . . a few minutes,” Noctis groans and lies back down, as the room begins to spin.  He isn't sure if it's stars he's seeing or if it's the crystal particles.

Lightning hits pause, pulls out one of her earphones and peers over her laptop.  “If you spew you’re cleaning it up,” she says.  Noctis is about to point out that they have staff on hand to do that, when he sniffs at the air, stomach grumbling. Ignis had refused to stop over to pick up food before they’d made the journey home.

“Hey, Light—” She tosses the uneaten burger wrapped in tinfoil at his face, and he thinks he could cry tears of joy— _it’s still_   _warm_!  He quickly unwraps it and sinks his teeth in, unable to help a moan. 

“Fries?” she offers.  He scrambles closer to the bed and takes the takeaway bag from her— _down the hatch go._ He’s too hungry to feel anything remotely close to ‘shameful’ right now,  _and it’s not like she cares_ , he thinks, while she passes an unopened can of soda to him.

“Yes!” Noctis exclaims, when his hand lands on another uneaten burger in the bag.  “You’re a life saver Light.”

“I know.”

“Question: why is it still warm?  It’s practically—” he takes a large bite and chews quickly, swallowing, “3am.”

“I went out for a burger run.”

“Do you always go out for burger runs?”

“Not ‘always’.”

“Come grab me next time.”  He finishes off the burger and everything else left in the bag, pops the soda open and sculls it in one gulp. If Ignis were present, he’d let out the loudest sigh imaginable. If Gladiolus were present, he’d be gunning for an encore, impressed. “So uh. . . did you see us while you were out?” 

“Can neither confirm nor deny,” Lightning says, because they both know his father is iffy about him being out the night before a public appearance.  But then she goes: “Did Gladiolus know he was kissing a man?”

“Can neither confirm nor deny,” Noctis replies, grinning up at her from the floor, head considerably clearer. “What are you watching?”

“‘A Thousand Words.’”

Noctis busts out laughing. He knows that film, actually—it’s one of Stella’s favorites. She’s made him sit through it once or a hundred times, give or take.  It's honestly the corniest, cheesiest thing ever invented.

“Don’t trip on your way out,” Lightning grouses, opening a bag of chips and crunching noisily. Instead, Noctis pulls himself up by the foot of her bed and props his elbows up on the mattress, chin resting in his palms.

“Can I watch?”

“That depends,” Lightning replies eyeing him dubiously, “have you watched it before?”

“Can neither confirm nor—”

A pillow hits him square in the face. 

“Okay, fine, I’ve seen it,” Noctis admits, laughing. “I won’t spoil it for you, promise.” 

True to his word, he doesn’t—he never planned to, anyway—but to be fair, it’s because he spends the rest of the night watching  _her_.  He’s never seen her smile— _laugh—_ so much, never seen her so irrationally indignant before in his life, never seen her so. . .  _human_ —there is no other word for it. And that's the kicker, isn't it?  That in spite of the powers and abilities that leave him leagues behind, she's still, beneath it all, a human being.

 _She's just not aware of it._    

It’s a whole new way of seeing things. 

~

_In the doorway Lightning still hasn't moved, wary.   What Kurasame’s voice lacks in emotion he has always more than made up for in callous remarks and sarcasm.  This is what she what she waits for, what she braces herself against. Odin knows she wants the reprimand to be over and done with as quick as possible so they can go back to whatever ‘close-to-amicable’ state their relationship had been in before Lindzei’s defeat.  The thirteen l’cie that had died—it was Kurasame who had brought them to the temple in the first place; away from their families, away from the lives they once knew._

AND NOW AWAY FROM THIS WORLD,  _Lightning thinks._

We are at war.  It needed to be done,  _Odin reminds her._

 _“They saw me as an older brother to them,” Kurasame says, eyes hard and staring into his lap.  “And I promised myself I would protect them.  But with them gone and Mateus, too. . . ” he exhales, fingers fisting in his sheets.  “I understand what you did. I don’t accept it—I’ll_ never  _accept it._    _But I. . . understand.  I have to, don’t I?”_

_“For the moment,” Lightning says, and he glances over._

_“For the moment?”_

_“We are at war. Focus whatever anger, whatever resentment you have towards me on that. But after Bhunivelze finally falls, if we’re still around by the end of it, you and I will have one last duel.  Only one of us will get to walk away.” She finally walks over and sticks out her hand.  “Agreed?”_

_Kurasame nods once and grasps hold, a little too weakly for comfort.  “Agreed.”_

_It’s_ _a promise to them both._

~

One of the servant girls catches him leaving Lightning’s room in the early hours of the morning after their fifth movie night and Noctis thinks nothing of it, till one afternoon when Regis summons him to his office and drops a tabloid right in front of him on his desk. 

It’s Noctis and Lightning on the front cover, in the middle of a waltz during last year’s ball, and she’s stunning as usual but very red-faced—from the cider Sazh snuck in, he remembers—and he’s laughing, because drunk!Lightning tells the funniest deadpan jokes.  He doesn’t even understand the relevance of it until he sees the headline: ‘MORE THAN FRIENDS?’ and skims through the article about a ‘source close to the Caelum family’ talking about his ‘nightly visits’ to the l’cie’s room.

“You don’t seriously believe this, do you?”

“Of course I don’t,” Regis says, rubbing the space between his eyes with a finger “but the advisors are jumping down my throat about this, because it is damaging to our overseas interests.  So just in an ‘official’ capacity, I’m just going to tell you to be careful, Noct.  Politics is—”

“Perception, got it.” Noctis says, going over to the door.  Just before he leaves he glances over his shoulder, mouth twitching because the opportunity is too good to pass up. “And just, in an ‘ _official’_ capacity, I’m not sleeping with her, and ‘ _officially’_ , the advisors can kiss my ass if they think I am.”

Regis is laughing when the door closes behind him.

There’s a skip in his step as he makes his way down to the front of the palace where Ignis and Lightning are waiting in the car and he ignores the silent cynical exchange the two make as he buckles himself in.

“Come on guys, that ribbon’s not gonna cut itself.”  He pulls out his phone and starts running through his speech, determined to slay it like that Behemoth Lightning did a few weeks earlier.

“Possible concussion during training,” Lightning says to Ignis as they pull out of the front gates.

“I’m worried,” Ignis says, while they watch Noctis in the rear-view mirror.

Noctis reads through his speech even louder to drown them out.

Lightning kidnaps him during the disastrous press conference afterward when one reporter blindsides him with questions about his and her ‘relationship’.  He manages to deflect that question with a question of his own, specifically asking why they think he would go out of his way to ignore the very tenet of l’cie philosophy, only for that same reporter to cite an unnamed source claiming they saw the two of them ‘canoodling at Katzroy manor’. Noctis just stares, completely dumbfounded, because that was the day he'd finalized the Commandare and it was completely innocent and—s _omeone saw?_

Before he has a chance to switch tactics and jump straight into denial—an explosion rocks the entire building from outside.  It’s honestly a blur of screaming and bodies scrambling to get to safety after that and he’s still reeling about Bonsai when suddenly it’s Lightning’s hand in his, warm, and firm, and reassuring, and she’s more or less dragging him like a kite behind her, out into the parking lot. She hurries over to the nearest car they can find and punches a hole through the driver-side window.  

“Get in.”

Noctis does, with some reluctance.  Stealing?  “You don’t have keys,” he points out, but Lightning just smirks, putting one hand on top of the dashboard, causing the engine to gun to life and he's both impressed and mortified as the tyres squeal against the black top.  Etro, she drives like a stuntcar driver: does a perfect 360 degree turn and weaves in and out and around people and other cars and—well shit.  He's just realized he's the teensiest bit turned on by all of this, watching her take control like that and he quickly mentally slaps himself.  She's l'cie: off-limits, remember? And also because she's his _friend_ , more importantly.  She's got enough people drooling after her.  He switches on the radio and thank goodness for classical music because it reminds him of stuffy fundraisers and that's _the biggest turn-off_ for him so he's able to relax back into his seat and enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts.  

Eventually, when the supposedly 'peaceful' seaside town of Salvus is behind them he notices that she hasn't taken the left turn that will take them back to the highway, like the roadside signs say, choosing instead to make a right, and up a winding hill, up, and up, and up.  “Light—”

“Rendezvous point first,” Lightning says. 

The meeting place turns out to be at the edge of the cliff overlooking Salvus and the sea, just like the cliff that hangs over Hals in Insomnia.  Lightning kills the engine and jumps out, stretching out her arms and legs, rolling her head on her shoulders.  He thinks she's going to get out her phone and call Ignis, but she hops backward onto the bonnet instead and leans back against the windshield just. . . relaxing? 

“You’re a little chill, for a threat against my life,” Noctis says, when he finally joins her outside.  “I’m not complaining, it’s just an observation.”

“The entire point of the exercise was ‘chill’,” Lightning replies, eyes closed and enjoying the ocean breeze. “And there was no threat on your life—just some unlucky person’s car . . . catching fire.” At mention of ‘fire’ Ignis immediately jumps to mind and he looks at her doubtfully.

“You guys didn't purposefully—”

“Can neither confirm nor deny,” Lightning yawns.

With a chuckle, he loosens his noose—tie—out from under his collar and tosses it into the wind. 

Ignis arrives with food a little while after and when Noctis asks about the exploding car he just gives him a ‘look’ and says “It’ll be our word against yours,” before promptly taking a gigantic bite out of his burger to avoid further questioning.

 _They make a good team_ , Noctis decides, settling in to enjoy the view in front of him, tuning out when they start planning a 'proper' evacuation procedure for the real thing.  He can't stop smiling as he replays it all in his head.

Ignis and Lightning, actually sabotaging a press conference just to save him from nosy reporters.

He couldn't ask for better friends.

~

 _“Light,” Kurasame’s voice is quiet and hesitant as it carries across the desert sand toward her, weapon rematerializing too slowly for her liking.  They’re both bleeding, but she bears the worst of it, refusing to allow Odin_ _’s magic_ _to heal her so as to level the battlefield.  One half of his mask has shattered, revealing the scar Sazh promised was there: a jagged line_ _that starts_ _below his right eye, slicing through the upper corner of his mouth._

 _“Don’t hold back.” Lightning grunts.  Without emotion the man chafes at her nerves.  Now that he’s more open about them he is_ insufferable _.  She thrusts out her hand, summoning her sword again. “I made you a promise; I intend to honor it.  And if you wish to honor the deaths of your thirteen brothers and sisters—you’d do well to arm yourself.”_

_“Light—”_

_She charges, crossing to his side in the blink of an eye, aiming to lop off his head.  He parries the blow, quickly retaliates with a slice to her wrist—aiming for the nerves that control her fingers—_ not enough to injure, just enough to disarm _, Lightning realizes, furious. Before Ultima vanishes, she head-butts him hard enough to have him stumbling back and her good hand catches him clean under his jaw, sending him flying.  He doesn’t get up._

_“Get up and fight!” Lightning snarls, clutching her useless arm as she stalks over, blood trailing in the sand after her.  Ultima is heavier in her left hand as she raises it over his heart.  Goddess he looks so pathetic, just lying there._

_He reaches up but only to undo the clasps holding up his mask, tossing away what remains of it.  He closes his eyes, shaking his head.  “This isn’t what I want,” he says, softly. “Not anymore.”_

_A lump forms in Lightning’s throat. Sticks._

Not anymore?

Not anymore?!

 _“Then what_ do _you want!” She demands, kicking him, Ultima still suspended over his chest.  “Tell me!”  All those months spent keeping each other alive, supporting each other just to get to this moment—_ and now he. . . " _Tell me what you fucking_ —"

 _“_ You. _” He whispers, opening his eyes again._

_Ultima vanishes and Lightning stumbles back, tripping over her feet to land heavily in the sand beside him.  He reaches out and catches her wrist before she can run. She shakes her head, trying to free herself even as warm healing energy gives her control over her fingers again. “Let go of me—”_

_“Light—”_

_“_ You _can’t!_    _Not after what I—” Goddess, did he hit smack his head against a rock?_

 _“You were there when no one else was.  When I’d lost Ace and the others. . . Mateus." He squeezes her hand. "‘Always, no matter what_ ,’  _you’d said_.  _I didn’t believe those words at first, but you stayed true to it.”_

 _“I stayed with you out of_ guilt _! No other reason at all!”_

 _“_ _If that's true then why hesitate?  Rid yourself of the guilt you say you still have.”_

_In the ensuing silence Odin murmurs that he finds no fault with that logic._

_“Find someone else!” She snarls, swinging her free hand at his face.  He catches it easily.  Interlaces his fingers with hers. “Let go of me before I—”_

_“Unfortunately,” he_ _says_ _, and Lightning stares, shocked as a smile breaks across his face for the first time. “I don’t_ want _anyone else.”_

 _When he pulls her down and kisses her_ _afterward_ _, she doesn’t resist._ _In fact, she kisses the scar, from the space beneath his eye to his lip.  She returns to that same spot over and over until air becomes a necessity._

He should smile more often _, she thinks, idly,_ _while_ _deft hands slide_ _beneath_ _her shirt_ _,_ _undoing_ _her chest bindings_ _just to splay his fingers against the skin of her back._

_“I should have healed this properly,” he murmurs, but Lightning just kisses him again to shut him up._

_She’s fervently glad that he didn’t._

_~_

“Hey Noct, can you pass me the—erm, nevermind I think I’ve got another one,” Sazh says quickly, rummaging through his toolbox for another pair of trimming scissors.  His voice is tentative.  “Is uh, everything alright, back at the palace?  Your old man not working you too hard?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, I just. . . haven’t had a lot of sleep lately.”

“Still haven’t severed the link?”

“No, but it’s looking pretty attractive, to be honest.” Noctis pushes the tree away while it still resembles a tree and slouches back against the work table, arms tight across his chest. 

“Oh,” Sazh hums, still cheerful as ever “why’s that?”

“There’s this man in Lightning’s memories.  Etro, he pisses me off so much—he has the emotional capacity of a robot. No wait I take that back— _robots_ would have more emotions than him. He’s just cold and distant—a complete asshole.  To her and everyone else.”

“Oh come on, he wasn’t _all_ that bad,” Sazh says, loyally. “Once we got to know him.”

“Well _I_ don’t know him,” Noctis grumbles. “I know _Lightning_. And what I’m trying to get my head around is why she’d waste her time on him.  He’s nothing but bitter the entire time they're together—but then after Bhunivelze is gone he decides he’s in love with her.  _In love with her_ ,” Noctis repeats, deadpan.  “I’m sorry but I just don’t buy it.”  And this is when Noctis notices—how much wider the smile on Sazh’s face is.   “What?  What’s so funny?” 

“Oh, nothing,” Sazh says, not looking up from his work.  “Just that if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

 _Him_ , jealous.  _As if._

He’s still simmering while Lightning passes him the large bowl of popcorn and pops open the DVD case hours later, and the realization that he’s wasted the whole day being pissed at Sazh is not as infuriating as the picture of two lovers hugging on the beach on the cover.  He spends the first few minutes of the film glaring at the screen, crunching noisily through the popcorn to drown out the cheesy one-liners until she finally hits _Pause_. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No, I just. . . ” Etro, why is it so hard to look at her all of a sudden? He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Are you alright if we watch something other than romance for a change?” 

“What do you have in mind?”

He leaves her for a short moment and returns with his laptop. He cycles through the files on his hard drive, scrolling until he finds the most terrifying, most stomach-churning horror flick he owns, hits _Play_ and takes the popcorn from Lightning while someone gets decapitated during the opening titles.

It's just what the doctor ordered.

~

_“My point.” Lightning declares with a smirk when Kurasame lands on his back in the grass, floored and disarmed once again.  She goes to help him up, but his leg swings out, knocking her onto her ass, and while she still reels at the underhanded tactic he lunges in the same movement and pins her to the ground._

_“_ My _point,” he corrects, smug.  She waits for him to try to kiss her, like she knows he’s going to—there’s a tenderness in his gaze_ _before he does; it_ _makes her heart almost stop every time—and  when he leans in she knees him in the stomach, knocking the wind right out of him._

_“Still my point,” Lightning says, hair tickling his cheek while she pins his hands above his head.  His eyes are on her lips._

_“Your point,” he agrees, voice_ _breathy and low._

 _The kiss that follows_ _is different from the others—it’s deeper and aggressive, perhaps a_ little _vindictive; swallowing the air from her very lungs until she’s forced to break away, breathless and panting with her lips at his ear, his hands pressing around her waist.  Pressing her closer to him—_

 

-SNAP-

 

"Yeah. Okeydokey, well. I'm gonna just uh, take _this_ little guy away from you," Sazh decides, cautiously taking the pot plant away and trimming scissors from Noctis.

 

"Sorry," Noctis mutters, feeling his ears and neck burn. "I don't know where my head's at today."

 

"Does it have anything to do with you avoiding Lightning?"

 

How the hell did he know that?  "I'm not avoiding her."

 

"You guys haven't trained together for a while now; she says you either put it off or opt to train with Gladiolus instead.  If that isn't a symptom of avoidance I don't know what is." 

 

"We don't have to spend _every waking moment_ together, Sazh.  Sometimes a little distance is healthy."

 

"Ahh so you _are_ avoiding her."

 

"I'm not avoiding—” Sazh points the water dispenser threateningly “okay, _fine_ , yeah. I'm avoiding her. The dreams have gotten. . . " Not exactly _worse_ , but.   

 

"So block them out," Sazh says. "Use one of the spirals on your hand.  No muss no fuss."

 

"What?  I can't just—will you stop smiling? You’re putting me off, what's so funny?"

 

"You are,” Sazh says, chuckling.  “See, here’s the thing, Noct:  you _can_ actually make life easier for yourself.  If you want all of the visions to go away, you have the ability to do so.  But you don’t use it.  Now the question is _why_.  Why put yourself through all this torture?  You’re—”

“ _Don’t_.” Please don’t say it. 

“Noct it’s perfectly fine—”

“No it’s _not_ , Sazh.  She’s l’cie.”

“And?”

“ _And_?” Noctis repeats with a sarcastic laugh.  Sazh is so completely beyond absurd. “And she’s _l’cie_.”

“Yes I’m aware, thank you. But see, this isn’t _about_ her, Noct.  Well, mostly not about her; it’s about you.  And what you need to understand is that your feelings are _completely_ valid.  Stop acting like they _aren’t_ —you’re a human being, aren’t you?”

“Sazh do you even _hear_ yourself? I can’t—”

“Whoa, slow down buddy, no one said you needed to run off and confess to her—unless you want to, then that’s perfectly okay.  What’s important is that you accept it,” Sazh says. “Accept that you have feelings for her.”

“And then what?”

“You could tell her, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Noctis rolls his eyes. “ _Right_ ,” he says, and Sazh goes back to humming a tune that suspiciously sounds like the theme song of ‘Eyes on Me’ while he waters his plants until Noctis finally leaves.

 _Just accept, and move on_ , he decides.  _I can do that._

~

 _“You’re hard,” she whispers, eyes widening slightly._

_“You’re surprise_ _d,_ _” he whispers back,_ _retaliating with a slow roll of his hips. Her breath stutters as she feels him—hot and thick, and_ ready _through the layers of clothing separating_ _them_ _. One hand comes up to cradle her face, thumb tracing her lower lip.  She thinks he's going to tease her again but instead he smiles, and even with the evening wind brushing her hair out of her face it is suddenly so hard to breathe. And then he tugs her down, lips whispering reverent promises against hers about the future neither of them thought they'd ever live to see, rolls her over, hands ghosting even lower as he talks about the places they'll go, the things they'll see—they have all the time in the world now, and suddenly she is not breathing at all—_

Noctis quickly shoves Lightning off from where she has him pinned beneath her, warping to his feet and then out of the Training Ground altogether, leaving her sitting in the grass, confused, and frowning.  A second longer and she would have known, would have _seen_ —the state he was in. 

He promptly—to Sazh’s chagrin—goes back to avoiding her again. 

~

It takes him almost three weeks to notice that Lightning has found someone else to train with.     Ignis, of course, notices much earlier, but what Ignis conveniently leaves out, Noctis thinks— mood souring as he quickly ducks into an open doorway so they don’t see him—is that it is Nyx _fucking_ Ulric of the _Kingsglaive_. Full disclosure: he doesn’t have a personal vendetta against Nyx—the guy is pretty easy to get along with, actually—Noctis just wishes he wasn’t so good-looking in addition to being honourable and loyal, and brave and intelligent. (Or so his father says— _brags_ , because he kind of took Nyx under his wing when he was younger, making him a weird pseudo-older brother Noctis never had.)

The two last qualities Noctis doesn’t doubt.  Nyx is intelligent enough to know that Lightning isn’t going with anyone to the New Years ball, and brave enough to ask her. Noctis is only mildly surprised that Lightning turns him down, but floored altogether when she explains that she already has a date.

“Maybe next year,” she tells Nyx, and because it’s Lightning, it’s a _promise_ —she _always_ keeps her promises, he’s learned—and Noctis kind of wants to set something on fire after that. 

The only silver lining that happens is when he video conferences Stella and she tells him she can’t come to the ball because she’s getting back together with her doctor boyfriend who can’t counter-riposte to save a life (ha! save a life).  

“I’m sorry, Noct.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He knows without a doubt when the chat window finally closes that they’re both lying. 

But enough introspect, there’s a ball to be had.

~

Hours later he’s outside her room, masked and bored, tossing the spare cufflinks up and down absently in one hand as is routine for them, and a little curious.  She _never_ takes this long.  He raises his hand to knock when then the door opens and the cufflinks land softly on the floor along with his jaw, and it’s just like that day under the willow trees all over again. He can’t remember how to think or breathe, and. . .

 _. . . Goddess,_ he thinks, as he takes in the dress and the sweetheart neckline that exposes half her l’cie mark, the silver bracelet wrapped around her wrist that Ignis helped him pick out for her birthday this year—the one she complained would get in the way during a fight. . .

 “Wow, Light,” he says, softly. Oh look: _words_.  Good to know _one_ part of his body can function without his brain. 

“That bad, huh?” Lightning says, but the smile on her face is smug.

Noctis swallows nervously. Gathers his jaw off the floor again. “So I hear you have a hot date."

“Can neither confirm nor deny.”

He follows her into her room, feeling his breath catch in his throat again because her dress is _backless_.  He can see the scars, clear as day—she hadn’t bothered to cover them up with makeup, but then he’s already learnt that she never would, never in a million years—they mean _everything_ to her. They’re the memento of the beginning of her journey to becoming a l’cie and of _him._ He doesn’t know who to be more resentful or envious of:  her date, or the man from her past.

He waits quietly as she sits on the ottoman and starts pulling on her heels, and he’s a bastard, but he doesn’t look away when she hikes up the skirts of her dress to do so. _She has the longest legs in the world_ , he thinks, tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth.  Goddess what the hell is wrong with him?  _She’s your friend!_

Lightning finishes putting on the other heel and stands, bringing them exactly at eyelevel. _Equals_ , Noctis can’t help but think.  She goes over to the vanity mirror and starts to put on her mask, careful to not to mess up the elaborate knot she’s tied her hair in.

“You know, Vida and Ignis had that same goofy look on their faces when I tried it on for the first time,” she says.  “Guess that must be a good sign.  But then, I wouldn’t go through all this effort if I didn’t think my date was worth it.” 

 _Fuck this date, whoever they are_ , Noctis thinks, forcing a smile.

. . . or not, because Lightning’s date turns out to be Sazh. Lightning doesn’t see the mischievous wink he gives Noctis, before he whisks her away.

Tonight is going to be a very long night. 

~

“I don’t understand,” the woman in Noctis’ arms says, slightly put-out, when Noctis steps on her foot for the fourth time, “I thought you said you were good at dancing.”

Noctis _is_ —when he actually _feels_ like dancing, and when the woman who he actually wants to dance with is dancing with _him_.  “Sorry,” Noctis says, apologetic and meaning it when he accidentally steps on her dress.  “I think I might be a little rusty.”

She huffs and storms away after that, and he takes two glasses of wine from the passing server, downing both in succession while he makes his way over to his father, who is motioning for him to come meet (disappoint) another eligible bachelorette.  While they talk—he’s grateful that her feet are hurting and she needs a break—he surreptitiously positions them so that they have a view of the entire dancefloor just to make his staring—‘leering’, as Lightning would say, he can’t help but chuckle— covert.

It’s very obvious that Sazh has snuck in his infamous cider: the man is laughing hard enough to throw out his back and Noctis knows it has to be because of something drunk!Lightning’s said or pointed out-- he can see a flush of red stretching from her neck downward even if he can’t see her face. 

“Goddess, I love her dress,” the woman beside him says breathily, and Noctis nods in agreement, silently thanking Vida because there’s no way he thinks she can outdo herself after this. The dress looks like it was spun right out of the night sky, painstakingly hand-stitched—Vida prides herself on detail—sequins glittering and rippling like stars in the ballroom lights every time Sazh spins Lightning out. It’s like watching a dream.

Until he can’t watch anymore.

He steals a bottle of wine—doesn’t bother with a glass—and quietly makes his retreat to the balcony.

~

 _The funny thing about love_ , Noctis thinks, taking another long drink while fireworks light up the sky,  _is that it's_ not _funny, not at_ all. _It is painful, embarrassing, and frustrating.  It is fleeting, and elusive; it leaves you wanting._

_But above all else it is ironic._

Ironic, when he thinks of all the times he and Gladiolus laughed about what physical attributes they preferred, about how Gladiolus had laughed even harder that one night, when Noctis—shamelessly inebriated—stuck his head out of the car and yelled to the empty highway  that he just wanted someone to be ‘ _there’_ if it wasn’t too much to ask.

'If I didn't know any better,' Gladiolus had laughed, 'I'd say you were talking about Lightning.'

“Happy Birthday,” Lightning says, punching him gently in the back before coming up beside him.  She takes the empty bottle from him and sets it onto the ground.  “Sazh said you had something to tell me.”

That vicious traitor. “He did?”

“Yeah, but I have news of my own, too.” Lightning says, fingering her bracelet. 

“You first, then.”

“I’m moving out.”

 _What_?  “Why?” Noctis asks.

“The dreams, Noct,” Lightning says. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you these past couple of weeks—two months, in fact.  I’ve done some very questionable, but necessary things in my life that I’m not proud of, many of which clash with everything you believe in.  And I know it’s affected you more than you care to admit. You’re not really eating, you’re definitely not sleeping, some days I can even tell when you’ve started drifting, and it’s not healthy.  I’ve contemplated severing the bond a lot in the past couple of weeks.”

“Light—”

“Hear me out.” Noctis falls silent again. “I know severing the bond isn’t what you want—yes, Sazh’s told me—so this has to be the next best thing. I’ve noticed if I don’t hang around you as much, you seem to be better rested the day after.  Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re right,” Noctis admits reluctantly.  “But I can handle it Light.  _Really_.  I’ve started to get used to the. . . ”

Blood. Violence. Gore.

“I know you have,” Lightning says.  “And I dont want you to. To become so desensitized like me and the other l’cie have is. . . _inhumane_.  Messed up.  To see suffering and not even blink.  That’s not the person I want you to turn into when you finally take your father’s place.  You’re _human_ , Noct. Don’t lose sight of what makes you that.”

“Do you really want to move, though?”

“It’s for the best.” And she quickly redirects, because they both know she hasn’t really answered the question. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Nothing.” Noctis lies, squeezing her arm. “Just wanted to wish you a Happy New Year, is all.” 

She punches him in the shoulder, then cranes her neck back to watch the rest of the fireworks display in front of him.  “Beautiful, huh?”

“Yeah,” Noctis whispers.

He’s the only one who knows they’re not looking at the same thing when they say it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mateus is an ice-based Esper from Final Fantasy XII. Needed an ice-based summon to complement Kurasame
> 
> Lightning's dress [ here](http://frightfulelegance.tumblr.com/post/134291255554/watters-mila-gown) but for fic purposes it's black, not white :)


	29. Not Unmindful of the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Caelums wrestle with their consciences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor(?) correction: The Dissolvere takes place 21/22 years before the start of this fic. I had to go back and correct it. Had it at 35 years because I can't math properly. Perks of jumping between past and present. My bad.
> 
> Pacing, what is pacing. . . I fucked up the last chapter--really should have split it. 
> 
> We're approaching the story again btw :)

_Sunlight and warmth, lily of the valley blooming in tiny pots lined against the orphanage walls. Lily of the valley lingering on Serah’s skin; on Serah’s fingers weaving a braid in Lightning's hair.  An afternoon breeze sweeps through the courtyard and Lightning laughs while Serah grumbles and futilely tries to shield her handiwork from it._

Lightning quietly touches her own hair, smoothing unruly strands out of her eyes. The vase front of her melds into the past, forgotten.  She sits back in her couch and lets herself drift.  

_"We'll be here for hours at the rate you're going," Lightning says._

_"We're being visited by the Queen, if that hasn't already escaped your notice.  We need to be presentable. I have a plan."_

_Lightning rolls her eyes at this._

_"Well, you heard how the crown prince and his wife were attacked by bandits on their way back to Eden, right?  It's so tragic: the princess and the newborn baby were the only ones to escape, but she died just hours after stepping through the palace gates.  The journey through the desert had taken everything out of her."_

_Lightning gives her a blank look._

_"Rumor has it the Queen’s handmaidens have run away to join the l'cie cause.  Which leaves us an opportunity, Light._ We _could take care of that child. . . "_

 _"_ _Serah_ _-"_

 _"Play our cards right and we could potentially be employed this time next week. And then Mother Freya would have no choice_  but  _to let us go with her. We'd be free at last._ "

_"Free from one prison and into another," Lightning deadpans.  She winces when Serah tugs her hair sharply._

_"It's not a_ prison _, it's a means: if we want to eat, we need to work."_

 _"I understand_ that _, but of all places the_ palace _, Serah?  Everyone knows the Queen is an avid supporter of The Order.  We can't afford to get mixed up in all that."_

_"We also can't afford to get mixed up with the l'cie, too Light.”_

_"Which is why we shouldn't get mixed up_ at all, Serah _.  I'd rather we take our chances in this shithole."_

_"It'll only be for a short while," Serah insists, coming to kneel in front of Lightning, baby blue eyes wide and imploring.  She grasps Lightning's hands tight.  "Just until we earn enough money to leave Eden altogether."_

_"Serah-"_

_"Come on, Light, I need you with me."_

_Lightning heaves a sigh and nods.  Serah gives an excited squeal and wraps her arms tightly around her._   _"Adventures in child-rearing?" Lightning says dryly.  "Every orphan's dream."_

 _"Adventures_  nonetheless _," Serah says, poking her.  "We've all gotta start somewhere."_

The ice clinking softly against glass while Noctis pours her some lemonade brings Lightning back to life.  

"Here."

"Thanks." Lightning doesn't take a drink, still frowning at the gardenias Serah had delivered for her birthday this year.  

"You don't like them?" Noctis asks. 

"No, nothing like that.  I was thinking of something else," she says. Her eyes flicker to the tiny wrapped box in his hands.  

“This is from me," Noctis says, pushing it into her hands.  "It's a charm to add to your bracelet," he explains after she plucks out the tiny jeweler piece and holds it in the palm of her hand.  "I _was_ going to go with a lightning bolt, but that caught my eye for some reason.  And then the jeweler—don't know if he was trying to con me, but I guess if I've already bought it, consider me conned.  

Anyway," he laughs nervously, looking away, one hand finding the back of his neck out of habit. "He said lilies of the valley symbolized trust and I thought it was. . .I wanted something to say—" 

"Thank you,” Lightning cuts in, mercilfully.  “I’m honored, Noct."  

Later, while puzzling over her reaction to the flowers to the guys, Gladiolus has some unexpected insight to offer: gardenias symbolize 'secret love'.  

"My mom’s a horticulturist, remember?” he says when Ignis and Noctis openly stare at him.  “I know what I'm talking about."

"I thought your name meant ‘sword’," says Ignis.

"It does—compromise she made with my old man, being the head of Amicitia house," Gladiolus chuckles. "He wanted something 'macho' and she wanted a girl."

"Secret love," Noctis muses.  "Do you guys think Lightning has a secret lover?" His hands curl into fists immediately after.   _Can't be._   She would've told him, right?  Because he told her about 'Diana' so some reciprocation wouldn't be too demanding of him, would it?

"Wouldn't be surprised." Gladiolus nudges Noctis suggestively.  "Gardenias can also represent  _unrequited_  love, you know.”

"You think perhaps the Seeress is onto him Gladio?" Ignis smiles.

Gladiolus snorts.  "As if anyone needs psychic powers to figure _that_ out with Prince  _Obvious_  over here.” 

 _Can’t be obvious if she hasn’t noticed_ , Noctis thinks.  “Ha- _ha_ , very funny guys," he says, feeling his face burn.  "It's not like that.”

"Then what _is_ it like?"

“Yes,” Ignis says. “Please enlighten us.”

"Nothing like what you idiots are insinuating.  We're just friends."

"Sure, Noct," both say in unison.  Gladiolus sounds amused.  Ignis sounds tired. 

~

Regis stands in the conference room, austere and unflinching in the sharp glare of fluorescent lighting and even sharper tongues. With every passing day the crystal grows weaker, the task of abating the council's anxieties about the appearance of cieth even more difficult to accomplish.

"It used to be once every few months a case would pop up," Councilman Cato says, cold grey eyes boring down at him from the podium. "Now it's one case per month. Soon it will be a case a week; a day, an hour. Soon the whole world will discover the scourge lurking beneath Lucis. And when the disease spreads to their cities, their people—their leaders will look to Lucis to blame.  We cannot afford to keep the l'cie and steward in the dark any longer.  The crystal is the mission, the responsibility of the l'cie—Lightning's _only_ reason for being here.  At the end of the day her sacrifice is  _expected_ , your majesty.  The  _whole world_  will expect it."

Regis bows his head.  "You're right.  You're completely right."  If he takes emotional attachment out of the equation Regis knows the solution they suggest—the obvious solution—is logical and not out of spite or cruelty.  Lightning's mission is to keep the crystal alive at all costs.  "I will tell him."

The tapestries of his predecessors hanging in the hallway mock him mercilessly on his way out. 

_Weak._

_Selfish._

_Coward._

_Human,_ Violetta whispers.  

Regis' head whips up and he finds himself caught up in the kaleidoscope of music and dancing in the palace ballroom once more.  A state representative who apparently has been talking to him for the past half hour, humbly bows and excuses himself to watch the fireworks display currently happening in the courtyard.    

Regis hears a sudden burst of laughter coming from the balcony and turns.  He can't hear what they're saying but Noctis' head is tossed slightly back, laughing like a man who isn't haunted by nightmarish visions of a war long fought and won, and Lightning is relaxed against the railing beside him in the moonlight, mouth quirked into a slight smile.  It's a sight Regis has grown accustomed to over the years but something has definitely shifted. 

A particularly loud explosion shakes the sky, raining golden confetti onto the palace.  Lightning's mask drops to the floor, forgotten as she cranes her neck upward, hands outstretched, trying to catch a few.  Regis shakes his head. How can it be possible for someone so versed in reading and predicting other people’s movements in battle to be so hopeless outside of it? 

Regis hears her laugh; completely unaware of the effect she has on his son who is standing and staring— _entranced,_ there's no other word for it. He shifts closer to Lightning—close as he knows she will allow without them touching—and raises his own hands, palms facing upwards.  He tosses some of it in her hair and quickly warps away, laughing when she tries to take a swing at him. She huffs and turns her gaze back toward the city lights, irritated while crystal particles dance and twinkle playfully in the air around her.  

 _It's not the dress,_ Regis knows, though it certainly has helped confirm some suspicions he's long held to himself with every interaction he's witnessed between the two.  He knows that look in Noctis' eyes very well as the latter materializes behind her, watching her while she watches the fireworks display: he’s intimately familiar with the inevitable heartbreak that path leads to.  

He knows what it’s like to long for, to  _want—_ someone who cannot possibly want you back. 

"You need to tell him about the crystal," Cor says quietly beside him. "He's not a little boy anymore.”

" _Look_ at him, Cor.  Look how happy he is.  Surely you can’t expect me to be so cruel."

"No, Regis.  What I would expect from _you_ , as _his father_ , is to have the moral decency to _not_ be so cruel as to rob your son of the little time he now has left to come to terms; to say good-bye." Cor squeezes his arm. "What I would _expect_ , _Regis_ , is for you to not be so cruel as to allow her to suddenly disappear from his life like Rygdea did.”

~

 _“I don’t really remember them,” Serah whispers one night, while they stare up at the night sky.  There's no moon out so Lightning can't see her face, but the sadness in Serah's voice is clear as day.  She shuffles closer to Serah and takes her hand._ _"_   _All I remember is the night they. . . I try to think of things we used to do before all that, but when I do see their faces there’s just so much blood I run.  I don’t recognize them at all. . . I’m_ afraid _, Light.  I’m afraid I’ll forget—”_

 _“You won’t,” Lightning promises fiercely.  "I'll be here to make sure of that."_ _Serah nods and curls into her side.  Lightning strokes her hair. "Our mother was strong and resilient," Lightning whispers. "We both have her eyes and hair, her_  temper,"  _Serah laughs_  " _but you're definitely more like her."_

_"How?"_

_"You're more inclined to_ listen _before judging."_

 _"I think_ you _could be more inclined to listen. . . in time," Serah teases._

Noctis quickly looks away when Lightning glances at him, back to the ceiling of the dome as the simulation finishes taking shape—a moonlit glade, much like the one from her memory.  He saw. She _knows_ he saw.

"Sorry.  I didn't mean to—it's the link—" How was he supposed to know this setting for today's simulation would be triggering for her? 

"It’s fine."  But even as Lightning says that she turns slightly away from him, armor materializing over her body, visor concealing the hurt in her eyes. "Let’s just get started.”

Noctis warps to the other end of the Training Ground and adopts a defensive stance.

It feels like she’s rejecting him.

_~_

"Skirmish at the Facility," Cor explains, joining Regis at the windows where he's been watching Gladiolus and Noctis jostle around in the courtyard below.  Off to the side, going over Noctis' speech is Ignis, brows furrowed in concentration.  Delegating him to PR is, by all accounts wasted potential for a brilliant military strategist, but Regis isn't willing to run the risk of having Ignis sit out in Council meetings and figuring out the crystal's true condition. Better for him to remain ignorant than to suffer being torn between his allegiances to his country and to his friend.   _And a friend, not a military strategist, is what Noctis will need in the coming weeks._

“What happened?”

"One of our more _senior_  guests tried to escape."  

"But they didn't," Regis points out. 

"They didn’t," Cor confirms.  Regis breathes out a sigh of relief.

"And Gladiolus didn't want to be healed?"

"He had to be ordered  _not to_.  He's been working without rest to help the Kingsglaive contain the spread of cieth; thinks it's just some kind of psychosis or disease yet to be cured.  But he's spreading himself too thin, as this afternoon has shown." 

"Will you get off already!" Noctis yells.  Even with one arm in a cast, Gladiolus amazingly has no difficulty in pulling Noctis into a headlock.  

"He was lucky to walk away with only a broken arm."

" _Lucky_?"

"Could've been worse," Cor mutters.  "Could've been  _bitten_."

"Cor-"

" _Tell him_.  You owe Noctis; especially after Rygdea."

Regis glowers, but then sighs and presses one of the buttons on the telephone sitting on his desk.  "Arthur," he calls.

_"Your majesty?"_

"I want you to schedule a meeting with the Council and Noctis tomorrow afternoon.  Three o'clock sharp.  Have everyone clear their schedules." 

_"Yes your majesty."_

Cor can hear the threatening hum of crystal in the air all around after Arthur hangs up.  He clears his throat, body angled toward the door.  "Should I—"

"Yes," Regis says coldly.  "I think that would be best."

~

Some evenings after a grueling day of fielding off questions about his personal life Noctis retreats to the palace rooftops, like he and Prompto used to during his Academy days. Sometimes the view of Insomnia from this height is awe-inspiring enough to take his mind off it. He has the entire world at his feet. 

Other times he takes in the sprawling steel landscape; the cloud hugging skyscrapers, the 'jaw-dropping' architecture with dispassionate eyes and wonders what it'd be like to be born as an ordinary Lucii.  Wonders what it'd be like to wake up to a life without schedule, without expectation of a certain level of decorum.  Wonders, as Lightning pulls herself up beside him onto the ledge he's perched, glow of her l'cie mark through her blouse catching his eye; what it'd be like to be  _free_.  

Wonders if she realizes how similar their situations are.

She wipes sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and lies back, panting; feet dangling over the edge. "Question: do you warp or do you climb?"

He smiles, not taking his eyes off the horizon. "I warp." 

"Figures," she grumbles, fanning herself.  He waits to let her to catch her breath, watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest in the corner of his eye until her body relaxes.  

"So Light,"

"If you're gonna say you want to head back down I will kick you right off this rooftop."

"No, nothing like that," Noctis laughs quietly, glancing over at her. Her eyes are closed now, features serene.  Her make up is smudged thanks to the sweat; he can count the light dusting of freckles on her nose.   Rebellious pink strands whip lightly across her eyes in the evening wind.  Her nose wrinkles, but she doesn't try to get it in some semblance of order.  "I was wondering if you ever thought of what life would be like if you weren’t l'cie."

"An alternate reality where Bhunivelze never existed," she says, amused.  "Now  _there's_  a thought."

"How do you think your life would turn out?  I mean what would you do?"  He watches one of her fingers tap thoughtfully on her brand.  Her lips purse a little.

"I've never given it any thought, to be honest."

"Why not?" Noctis says, lying down beside her.  (Not close enough that they touch, though.)

"Being a l'cie is all I know how to be. War has been— _is_ the only reality I know." She touches her chest. "If I'm still l'cie it means the war isn't truly over."

 _So that's why she trains so much,_  Noctis realizes.He turns on his side toward her.  "Is peacetime really that unsettling for you?"

"At the end of our final battle with Bhunivelze He looked all of us in the eye and  _laughed_ while Etro dragged him into the Unseen.  He said it wouldn't be the last we heard from Him, that He'd come back.  I thought nothing of it until a few days later when none of us entered crystal sleep.  The Seeress of that time told us there was still work to be done.  So I’ve more or less slept with one eye open thanks to that.”

"And now?" 

" _Now_ , it's not my problem to worry about anymore." 

"What do you mean?  I don’t. . ." A faint smile creeps across her face. “What?”

"The  _crystal_ , Noct?" she reminds with a laugh that has his heart sinking into his stomach.  In the blink of an eye Noctis is on his feet. This is the one conversation he's always dreaded having. He's not ready for it, and he's not going to give her the chance to pursue the topic.

"We should uh," he clears his throat and stretches unnecessarily, his back to her because he can't bear to look at her right now. He’s not ready to talk about good-bye much less say it. His arm stretches out to her, eyes averted.  "If you hold onto me I think I can warp both of us—I've been practicing—"

Lightning touches his elbow.  “Noct—”

His jaw clenches and his voice comes out a lot sharper than intended. "Come _on_ , Light it's getting dark—"

She forces him to turn back to her anyway. When his eyes don't meet hers she catches his chin between her fingers and raises his gaze. " _Hey_.”  

"Light—"

" _Look at me._ "  

Noctis does and regrets it an indescribable amount.  He has a million clever remarks to hide how much her smile is hurting him right now, but the rising lump in his throat stops the words from leaving his lips.  

"I don't want you to feel _any_ sort of guilt," Lightning says firmly, a steel-like glint in her eyes.  "Not a single  _one._ It is an  _honor_  to be giving up my life for you, for the crystal, for everyone in Lucis and I have zero regrets.  This is _my_ choice. You’re not allowed to feel sorry for me.  Got it?"

 _Goddamnit, Light._   Noctis wants to reach out and shake her. The memories contradict everything she says-- _everything_. _She's lying._  He knows she wants to live; he knows she would give _anything_ to be back in Bodhum with Serah.   _Why won't she admit it?_ "Got it," he says quietly.  "Shall we go?"

She hesitates, one hand gripping her elbow.  This has to be the first time he’s seen her uncertain.  “I could meet you down there—”

“You trust me, don't you?”

She glowers. “You are _not_ playing that card.”

“Yes I _am_.  And you’ve played it _way_ more times than I have, by the way,” Noctis adds.  Scowling, she steps close and grabs hold of his forearms. Squeezes her eyes shut.  “Uh Light, you don’t actually need to close your-”

“Just warp before I punch you in the—”

He warps.

The rest of her words—and subsequent string of profanities are drowned out by the rush of wind blowing through their faces as their bodies zoom to their destination.

~

_“I dreamt of the future again,” Serah whispers excitedly to her one night while Lightning sits behind her on the bed and runs a brush through her hair.  “I dreamt that we leave this horrible orphanage.  I dream that we have adventures.   That we meet people both sweet and sour: people who hurt us, people who help us.  You pass away at the ripe old age of ninety, all wrinkly and grey, more grandchildren than you can count sitting on and around your bed.   And then we meet again in the Unseen, where new adventures await.  How does that sound?”_

More grandchildren than I can count? Absurd _, Lightning thinks. Serah has such a vivid imagination, sometimes. “That definitely sounds like a dream, Serah,” she says finally. She resumes brushing Serah's hair.  “But the details don’t matter to me, as long as we’re together.”_

_“Always,” says Serah, and Lightning nods._

_“No matter what.”_

~

Somehow, in the middle of traversing from the rooftop to the front steps of Lightning’s apartment, her entire body ends up curled into Noctis’: face buried in his chest, hands gripping his collar like a lifeline long after the wind dies down and the crystal particles evaporate. 

He doesn’t immediately move to push her away.  It’s partly because she’s shaking like a leaf, but mostly because he’s reveling in the close contact. She’s so warm _, alive_.  He’s held her close while guiding her through many disastrous waltzes, but the way she’s leaning in to him now, wrapped around him like a vine around an oak tree, like a ship clinging to an anchor in a storm. . .

 _She really does trust me._ “Hey, ‘fraidy cat,” he teases softly.

Gradually her gaze moves up to meet his. Her mouth hangs slightly open and there’s a flush high up on her cheeks.  She’s embarrassed.  

“Sorry I. . . ”

Noctis never hears the rest.  (Truth be told, he’s stopped listening.) A shiver trails down his spine when he feels her breath on his lips and, _Etro_.  He’s seen the memories so many times, but _holding_ her like this—he can’t help but wonder about Kurasame.  Was this how it was for him?  He wants nothing more than to bury his head into the tiny space between her neck and collar bone and just—

 _Goddess, how the hell did that man even cope?_  

He’s so completely rocked by the temptation to kiss her—and definitely tempted to do _a lot more_ than that if she actually felt the same way—that he has to will every limb in his body to shut down.  He knows if he moves by the slightest inch his lips will brush against hers.  Hell, he could even pretend to lose his balance: ever since the ball he’s been clumsy around her: all thumbs—she’s noticed—but luckily (unluckily?) for him she attributes it to a lack of sleep and concentration.

And knowing Lightning she’d just roll her eyes at him in the aftermath; probably mutter something along the lines of ‘it’s fine’ and move on with her life.   It wouldn’t be ‘real’, but it’d still count as a kiss.  It'd be so easy.

Noctis lets go. Takes a step back and smiles. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?" 

"We are _never_ doing that again."

He waits till the door closes before teleporting out of there.

He doesn’t want ‘easy’.

He wants ' _real_ ' or nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cieth = zombie apocalypse, basically


	30. From Here On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Meeting with the Council.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue in italics that isn't part of a flashback is not in 'English'

One particular sparring session, Noctis decides to take a leaf out of Kurasame’s book.  He doesn’t expect it to work; actually expects those pre-cognitive reflexes of hers to kick him right in the face when he attempts it.  Here’s the thing, though: Lightning _actually falls for it_. 

She’s staring up at him, eyes wide with surprise at the audacity; sword hand pinned firmly to the ground by his while his blade rests a comfortably--for him--dangerous--for her--distance away from her clavicle.  To add comical effect to her predicament there’s bits of grass in her usually perfect, but now disheveled hair and a smear of dirt on her chin.  _No dignity to be found here_ , Noctis thinks, grinning. It’s a rare thing of beauty, being able to catch someone as stoic as Lightning blushing. Of course he’s going to make the most of it.

_She fell for it. Oldest trick in the book and she fell for it._

Before he can rub it in her face that he’s _finally_ —blessed Etro be _praised_ — _finally_ managed to catch her off guard, something else happens.  Something that catches _him_ off guard, that throws months of longing gazes in her wake, lingering stares in the spaces she used to occupy into a reality that he’s always laughed off in a self-deprecating manner _because there’s no way she’d ever—_ but it happens.  Perhaps, only for a nano-second in real time, maybe shorter, but her eyes leave his and travel downward, tracing right over his mouth— _tracing, not_ glancing. . .

. . . and then back to him.  There’s curiosity and a faraway sort of light in her eyes as she looks at him, but then Noctis realizes, hope dashed, that she’s most likely thinking of _Kurasame_ in that moment.

And fuck him he's in deep, because even knowing _that_ , it’s still hard to look away. 

It’s hard not to etch every single feature of her face; map every single freckle in vivid detail: the tiny flecks of green in her eyes, the shape of her nose, the curve of her mouth.  It’s hard not to read into the possibility that she perhaps might _not_ be thinking about Kurasame at all. Granted, he’s never brought that man up in conversation, but then again, neither has she.  Whether this means she’s over Kurasame or not remains to be seen, but Noctis hopes against hope that it’s the former.

And because he hopes against hope, his brain is in danger of imploding from the sudden influx of questions in his mind.  Was there something he’d missed in all the years that they’d known each other?  Was she really not as oblivious as originally thought? 

Was  _he_ the one who was oblivious?

He swallows, to parch his now dry throat and tries not to fixate on the fact that their hips are pressing together.  (Thank goodness for cold, steel armor on Lightning’s front.) He finds his voice again before the silence has a chance to turn awkward.

“I win.” 

Etro that doesn’t even _sound_ like him speaking, half caught between a whisper and catching his breath.  _Tell her.  Goddamn it, just tell her.  While you still have the chance to._ He opens his mouth, but he’s waited too late: the spell breaks.  Lightning’s eyes are now narrowed and glaring. 

“You cheated,” she says-- _hisses_ , rather. 

Worth it, especially if the past few seconds was the result. “So?”

That answer earns him a knee to the groin.  He goes down, swearing and groaning, sure that he deserved that, but it doesn’t dampen the elation, the _euphori_ _c energy_ threatening to burst right out of his chest. Somehow, in _some_ way Lightning may _possibly_ be attracted to him.  The probability of it is minuscule, but not to the point of being impossible; it _exists_.

He has a chance.  

From the moment he leaves the training ground to the moment he arrives outside conference room 1B’s doors, waiting to catch his father before the meeting begins, Noctis is vaguely aware of his surroundings.  It’s just another meeting, the same old song and dance about responsibility, about new bills to be argued over and passed, policy reviews—shoptalk, all in all.  Blah, blah, blah-- _spectacularly_ boring stuff.  He'd rather watch paint dry. 

As a result, Noctis doesn't notice that the typically more friendly members are uncharacteristically taciturn today, or that some even go to the length of avoiding his gaze while they shuffle past into the conference room.  He’s lost in the memory of that day under the willow trees at Bonsai house—wrapped up in the warmth he felt, the gentle pressure of her lips against his, the softness of her skin against his touch when he’d pulled her closer.  Her heart beating under his palm.  

Steady, sure. 

_Safe._

_“I think you should consider lip balm. . . for next time.  I won't fault you for technique or enthusiasm, but it definitely hurt a little bit,”_ she’d said, but _Etro_ , the knowing _smirk_ on her face as she’d said it. She'd known exactly what she'd done to him, hadn't she.

And then the New Year’s ball, when she’d found him again at the end of the festivities. Etro if he could jump back to that point in time and rewrite that entire scene. 

_“Sazh said you had something to tell me.”_

Goddess, but if he _had_ told her then, would she have— 

Regis squeezes hard on Noctis' shoulder, bringing Noctis back to the waking world, to the shrewd glances of the older men trained on them from all angles. Noctis blinks up at him, cheeks red from being caught in the act of daydreaming.

“Dad—”

“Noctis,” he murmurs quietly, eyes staring dead ahead. “This meeting was called especially for _you_. You must listen.”

_Yeah, yeah._

Noctis puts the brakes on retrospect and continues on in the present.  Ignis gives him a small nod of acknowledgement while he carries on with a small presentation about Lucis’ military capacity, comparing it to Niflheim’s. It gets very technical, but the gist of it is that if not for the crystal, Niflheim would pose a very real threat to not only Lucis but that of the entire world. As Ignis returns to his seat, Noctis glances at his father, frowning.  Never once in all the meetings he’s attended have the Council ever brought the crystal up until now. (They only bring up Lightning when they want to make disparaging remarks about her 'conduct'.)  

There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, but he wants to give his father the benefit of the doubt first.  “Dad—”

The presiding speaker raps the hammer sharply against the gavel, and Noctis almost jumps out of his seat.  As it echoes around the room, the remaining council members rise.  Regis’ grip tightens.  Ignis is looking about the room, bewildered, before he meets Noctis’ eyes again.

“Dad what’s going—”

In perfect unison, the council begins to chant.  It starts off sounding like complete gibberish, until the Commandare on Noctis’ palm begins tingle, and then burn, and Regis whispers:

“Noct, _listen_.”

 

> “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori:  
>  mors et fugacem persequitur virum  
>  nec parcit inbellis iuventae  
>  poplitibus timidove tergo. . . ”

The room falls silent for a beat, and then they start up again. (And again, and again.) The fifth time round Noctis gets frustrated enough to begin contemplating warping right out of there.  In the brief instant it takes for his eyes to change color, time slows, and their words rearrange in his head to something he can understand. The moment their message reaches him, dread begins to coil in his gut.

 _You’re just being paranoid,_ he tells himself. 

Councilman Cato remains on his feet while the rest of them sit, eyes devoid of any emotion as he presses a button that projects a hologram of the crystal in mid air, glowing a weak, orange colour. 

Noctis sees it and subconsciously touches his glove, feeling the Commandare pulse beneath the material, nausea beginning to build.  His knees start to weaken and shake and his skin suddenly feels too tight for his body; clammy despite the chill of the air conditioning, beads of sweat beginning to line his temples. _It’s a hoax; it has to be a hoax_.

He doesn’t recognize the room the camera feed is coming from, the person in a white labcoat, scribbling notes in a clipboard and talking to someone over their shoulder before the feed cuts off.  _Etro._ And at such an advanced stage, too. _No, impossible. There haven’t been any—_

Cato, as if anticipating, presses another button.  A long, dimly lit corridor of heavily bolted doors.  One of the kingsglaive is pacing up and down.  _A prison?_   The feed switches, this time to show the inside of 'Cell #59' as marked in the top right-hand corner. The footage is dated at least two months earlier. 

The sole occupant of the whitewashed room is a boy, early teens, sitting on the bed, idly scratching at his neck.  Cato skips through the footage, jumping through time, eventually hitting _Play_. 

Cell #59, two months later.  There are violent slashes on the walls, as if someone has tried to claw their way out, the word ‘l’cie’ smeared all over the floor in blood.  The heavily bolted door keeping the creature imprisoned is severely dented in the middle, but still intact.  A creature shuffles its stony body slowly into the foreground, as if wading through molasses. One of its arms is longer than the other, more claw-like in appearance, hanging heavier and closer to the ground, giving the monster an uneven gait.  The feed cuts off again, the hard lines of Cato’s face taking Noctis’ attention once more. 

_“The time has come for the l’cie to complete the task they were chosen for.  As holder of the Commandare you will see to it that she is informed and the necessary actions are taken.”_

_See to it that the. . . necessary actions are taken._ _Necessary actions. . ._

Noctis wants nothing more than to bolt from the room, but he refrains.  The crystal’s deterioration is a natural consequence over time but the inconsistency of it doesn’t add up.  _It’s too early._   Regis squeezes his shoulder.

 _“_ We’ll get through this—”

 _“Before I do anything I would like to know why the crystal is in the state it is in_ ,” Noctis says.  _“The crystal is supposed to last a good fifty years after_ _taking in a l’cie’s_ _lifeforce.  It’s proved consistent with every Lucis l’cie we’ve had in the past.”_  

 _“You are correct," says Cato.  "Ordinarily, the natural progression of the crystal to its dying state would occur gradually time, much like ageing.  With recent developments in the world over the past few years,_ _most notably the rise in anti-Lucis sentiment over ownership of the crystal and Niflheim’s growing influence the priority of protecting ourselves in the event of a conflict over the crystal became such that—”_

 _“—weapons.”_ Noctis sways unsteadily on his feet. _“You were using the crystal’s power to build weapons._ _”_

 _“As well as necessary improvements to the protective barrier over Lucis_ _.  Our actions are a precaution, made in the interests of the Lucian people—”_

 _“Your ‘_ precaution’ _is an_ arms race _,” Noctis glowers, “for a war that doesn't exist!”_

“Yet.   _Niflheim’s technology and military might is growing at an almost exponential rate._ _Even with the crystal we are barely able to keep up. And when they overtake us, which they_ will _, I guarantee the emperor will set his sights on Lucis.”_

 _“And none of you ever thought to consult with me_ _until the cieth started to appear,”_ Noctis says, deadly calm, despite his entire body tensing, fists clenching tight to keep from doing something irrational (like slicing up the entire room, for example).  “ _I am the crystal’s steward and you are only now remembering because you need me, don't you?_ ” Cato doesn’t blink. In fact every wrinkle on his face hardens.   _"You need me to give the order."_

 _“No, we did_ _remember. From the beginning it was insisted many times_ _that you were to be informed, but_ _we were reminded time and time again that it was not our place to,”_ says Cato, and that’s when Noctis registers, that is when Noctis realizes that the grip on his shoulder has vanished. 

 _“You knew,”_ he whispers, knuckles crackling as he turns to Regis. _“All this time_ you _knew._ _And you said nothing.”_

_“Noct—”_

Noctis ignores him, turning back to Cato and all the other pairs of eyes fixed on the two of them.  Their faces blur and he sees Lightning instead, covered in dirt and blood after a battle, scowling with her sword pressed against his throat as she lectures to him about duty and honor.   He breaks the terse silence with utter conviction and zero regret:

 _“_ No _."_

Pandemonium.

He dodges his father’s attempts to stop him; shoves him away hard, storming right out of the conference room doors.  He doesn’t care that every step he takes erodes the respect and rapport and _approval_ he’s worked so tirelessly to earn from the old men now crying out in protest after him.  All those years he’s spent tip-toeing, keeping his reservations to himself, refraining from responding to their callous speculations about his and Lightning’s professional relationship—all in the hope of somehow managing to change their perspectives once he became king—wasted.   _She's just another tool to them._

Lightning is on her feet the moment the conference doors fly open, and Noctis’ footsteps stumble to an unsteady halt when he sees her: torn and at a loss.

 _‘Against our better judgement we listened to the Goddess and gifted the crystals to humanity, to your ancestors, to_ _you,_ _if only to help you start anew. And while humanity has continued to flourish and abuse our numbers have continued to diminish. It isn't a question of this being fair or unfair, but there is a sad truth that there are so little of us left, so little of us around to_ _remind_ _you just_ _how lucky you are._ _’_

Regis catches up to him while he stands idle, grip closing over his arm, jarring Noctis back to the present.

“Noctis—”

“I’m not doing it!”

“ _Son_.” His father’s eyes are desperate, pleading.  Lightning’s sword hand is thrust a little out to her side, ready. “We don’t have a choi—”

“Y _ou_ don't have a choice— _I_ do,” Noctis says, voice shaking with fury.  _I’m the one who carries the Commandare.  I’m the Steward._ _The crystal and Lightning are my responsibility and_ you _took that from me.  And now I have to be the one to—_ “I can't believe— _Dad_ , how could you even  _think_ to  _make_  me—”

"Noctis if there was any other way—"

"— _you_ of  _all_  people!” Noctis can feel the crystal responding to his anger, materializing in the air around and behind him.  “After  _everything_ you've taught me—" _Did Rygdea mean nothing to him?  Was he just another pawn like Lightning?_

" _Son_ ,” Regis says. One hand is stretched out toward him. Noctis shakes his head, backing away.   _I trusted you and you’re no better than the rest of_ them _; sitting in that room, more worried about weapons and war than working toward an era of peace._ “ _Noct_ , please understand. It's—"

"Go to hell."

Noctis is gone before he can hear more of his father’s excuses.

 

~

_It is the first of many arguments the Farron siblings have as Seeress’ Yeul’s time draws to an end.  While most of the l’cie scatter to different corners of the world—some to serve as guardians to the crystals, others to excitedly begin lives of their own, Lightning stands devastated as Serah announces her intent to become Yeul’s successor.  She searches her sisters eyes for doubt, any sure sign of reluctance she can use to make her see reason, but Serah’s heart is resolute, her eyes lucid and unwavering._

_“Serah, the magic that the Seeress relies on—it doesn’t just use your energy.  It drains your_ life force _as well every time you use it.”_

_“Then I won’t be frivolous with it.  And I have Yeul to guide me,” Serah says, stubbornly. “If I am to be her successor—”_

_“Yeul is_ dying _!  Serah we didn’t come this far, we didn’t defeat Bhunivelze just so that you could—”_

_A knock on the door._

_“Serah?” Snow pokes his head through the bedroom door, flinching back from Lightning’s glare.  He clears his throat and glues his eyes to the ground.  Lightning crosses her arms to stop herself from throwing a thunder spell his way and huffs, glaring at the wall closest to her.  Snow clears his throat. “Seeress Yeul says when you’re ready. . . ”_

_“I’ll be right there,” Serah promises. The bedroom door closes._

_“Last time it almost_ killed _you,” Lightning says.  “The kind of magic you’re learning--what if—”_

_“All the more reason for me to learn how to control it,” says Serah, fiercely.  “I know you’re worried because of what happened last time, but I stand by what I did.  In the interests of preserving the future—”_

_“You could have_ died!”

 _“But I_ didn’t _,” Serah insists.  “And Kurasame would have killed_ you _, Light.  Do you know what it’s like? To watch the person you love die right in front of you?  Do you honestly think_ I _would have been content to sit still and let it happen? I had the power to save you, Light, and I used it. And in choosing to save you, I prevented a second war that would have pitted humanity against us.  I knew what I was doing then, and I know what I have to do_  now.” _Serah gently approaches, wrapping her arms around Lightning.  Lightning doesn’t move, doesn’t even react. “It can’t just be about_ us _anymore.  The world—”_

Enough already!   _Lightning pushes Serah away._ _“I’ve given them_ enough _, Serah.”_ I’m not giving them you.  “ _Vanille was Yeul’s first choice! You should have left well enough alone!”_

 _“I couldn’t do that to Fang.  Not after what_ they’ve _been through.”_

 _“So what, that immediately qualifies_ me _as a better substitute?” Lightning demands._

_“Light that’s not what I—”_

_“That’s_ exactly _what you meant,” Lightning snarls, arms tightening around herself.  She goes back to glowering at the wall. “Go, then.  If killing yourself means that much to you, if none of what_ we’ve _been through even matters anymore.”_

_“It’s not like that—”_

_“Just_ go _Serah.  I’ll get over it.  I’ll have to, won’t I?”_

_The door quietly shuts and Lightning sinks to the ground, drawing her knees up to bury her face into it._

_It is the first step towards good-bye._

~

He rehearses what he’s going to say to her when she inevitably tracks him down again (it’s Lightning: she’d track him down to the edges of Hell).  He repeats the words over and over in his head until they actually start to sound true.

The first few weeks of avoiding phone calls and only responding to her via text message Noctis is on edge: jumps every time he hears a door close, a window open—but Lightning never shows, and despite his current resentment towards his father he’s grateful Regis' threats are capable of keeping her out of the palace.  When Ignis tells him she’s volunteering at Bonsai house and that he’s going to drop her off at the sky port on Friday morning, Noctis breathes a little easier and casually declines, citing the need to prepare for upcoming site visits and other public appearances.  Her time away will help him organize the chaos in his head. 

But one day, of course, as per her namesake, Lightning strikes, jolting him to his senses with a cold hand to the shoulder. Thanks to his nervousness and being caught off guard, his words come out rapidly; can’t even manage to look her in the eye.  Sure fire indicators of someone being evasive. 

"Just the same old bullshit from the Council, you know how it is.” 

Etro, even _he_ doesn’t believe the lie as he says it.  And when Lightning’s eyes take on _that glint_ , the same one Ignis and Gladiolus have when _they’ve_ caught him in a lie—he just knows it’s a matter of time before he blurts out the truth in blind panic.   

"If it's the 'same old bullshit',” she doesn’t mime fake quotation marks in the air as she says it, but he feels the cynical sting of it in her voice, regardless “why'd you look ready to attack your own father?"

"What, I'm not allowed to get angry?" Noctis tries for a laugh.  Etro, that was _terrible_.  Is he even _trying_ at this point?

Lightning looks like she’s ready to knee him in the groin again.  She crosses her arms.  "No, I've seen you angry. But that day was something else."  When Noctis doesn’t say anything, her features soften in a way that he hasn’t seen since the ball when she’d told him how important his humanity was, how she didn’t want him perpetuating the philosophy she’d lived for herself in pursuing her duty. And Etro, isn't that a sucker punch to the gut.

 _Because dishonesty, and selfishness are key qualities of what it means to be human, too,_ Noctis thinks, fists clenching.  _Does she really expect me to just_ sit _there and let her die?  Just_ use _her to keep the crystal alive and throw her away just like that?  Does she really expect me to prove to her that I am_ exactly _like my ancestors?_

_Exactly like my father?_

“Noct, I don't know the first thing about being a royal, but I do know about duty, and how hard it can be to—" she flinches back when his headphones slam loudly against the table, stares after him as he goes over to the windows.  “Noct,” she says, quietly.

He cuts her off before she can say anymore.  Etro, even in the reflection of the windows he can’t look her in the eye. Pathetic.  “Light, if it's alright with you, I'd rather not. I just. . . I'd just like to be alone right now, okay? This is. . . it's my burden to bear. Just go, enjoy your holiday. Everything's fine."

She doesn’t say anything for the longest time, and for a moment he’s certain that she’s left the room, silently as she’d entered, but then she speaks again, this time right behind him.  Where she’s _always_ been.  _Where she won’t always be_ , he thinks, shoulders sinking into himself.

"Noct, you have to keep going,” Lightning says. “It might seem bleak right now but there's hope if you dig deep enough. You can't stop now. We're all counting on you.  _I'm_  counting on you."

 _You’re counting on me.  Funny you should mention that,_ Noctis is about to quip—when she whips him round to face her and wraps her arms tightly around him. 

And the whole world stops. 

The whole world stops, and the moment it begins to restart his arms come around her just as tight and it’s not so much as hugging as it is _holding on._ That’s really all he can do right now is just hold on, hold _her—_ after weeks of combing through the archives and finding nothing, save ancient grimoires that still lead to the same conclusion: that he’s going to lose her _no matter what_ he does.

That one day someone else will be in the Training Ground to meet him; that one day the _fulcrum_ keeping him from tottering backward: that firm pressure of her fist at his back urging him forward is going to disappear, leaving him directionless and spiraling. 

That one day he’s going to wake up and _accept_ that ‘always’ is a dream, is the _lie_ he’s been telling himself since he was a kid.  He feels her pulling away and lets go, feeling an emptiness in his chest.   

“Noct. You don’t have to carry this burden on your own.”

He’s tempted to say those very words back to her.  _No, Light,_ you _don’t have to carry this burden on your own.  Because I’ll help you._

_And I’ll give you a reason to believe in humanity again._

He reluctantly puts distance between them again, and it’s the worst time to joke around, especially because the weight of his heart sinking through his stomach, right through his study floor is so goddamn painful—but he does. It pisses her off, naturally, and she grounds herself, ready to commence another round of interrogations, but the mention of his father’s name turns her complexion pale.  Without any more protest and a scowl that promises him retribution in their next sparring match, Lightning marches out of his study.  He waits, listening until her footsteps have cleared the hallway before locking the study door. 

_That’s enough surprises for today._

“Darn,” says a voice from the windows.  Noctis almost gives himself whiplash, turning to the source.  And then he stares, mystified, heart pounding a mile a minute as the visitor nonchalantly walks over to the table and seats herself in the chair across from his. At the windows golden crystal particles twinkle before dissipating in the sunlight altogether. Extremely high level time-space magic.  

Her eyes are on the door when Noctis glances back at her.  “I _was_ hoping to catch you _before_ that conversation,” she says, sighing. “Seems I’m out of practice.  Forgive me?”

Noctis swallows. “You’re the. . . you’re Light’s—”

Her expression brightens, smiling delightedly at him.  “Ahh so she _has_ talked about me! Won’t you sit?” she gestures to his place at the table.

“Not in so many words,” Noctis admits, dropping into his chair. She stretches out a hand over his books and he shakes it, matching her confidence with nervousness.

“Serah Farron.  Or Seeress Serah, if you’d prefer,” she adds with a laugh. 

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Serah.”

“May I call you Noct? Lightning and I have always referred to you as such in conversation so it’s stuck.”

Lightning’s talked about him?  “Noct’s fine,” Noctis says.  He clears his throat.  “Is this. . . am I going to get into trouble for talking to you?”

“Of course not,” Serah says.  But then the smile on her face vanishes.  “Because you’re _already_ in trouble."

"What?"

She wags her finger at him, tone stern.  "You’ve made quite a mess, Noct.  But don't worry, we're going to fix it. We'll have to, if we want the world to keep spinning.”

“A mess,” Noctis repeats dubiously.

“Well, _dead_ , to be accurate.”

Dead?   _And she says it so casually, too,_ Noctis thinks, staring at her. 

“I should probably start at the beginning, shouldn’t I?”

“Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The latin recitation the Council make is taken from Odes III a latin poem by Horace. 
> 
> Translation:   
> "How sweet and honourable it is to die for one's country:  
> Death pursues the man who flees,  
> spares not the hamstrings or cowardly backs  
> Of battle-shy youths."


	31. Neverwhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware of Doors.

If their Valhalla was a sprawling vista of eternal sunlit grassland bending in the breeze, then this place where the Seeress had brought them was certainly the anti-thesis of it.  Raines saw no sun nor moon to tell them the time of day.  The only source of light—or rather _illumination_ for light connoted  _life_ , and the little life left in this place was quickly sapping away into nothingness—came from a single tear in the sky: a dark crimson glow bleeding out over a desolate landscape of rubble and shattered glass and smoke. 

Insomnia.

Or rather, what had _not yet_ been consumed by the cieth horde, presently roaming sluggishly in the distance. Crystal utterly depleted they now wandered through the last vestiges of civilization, scrounging for the last scraps the living world had to offer.  And all the while the tear would grow and grow, the Destroyer would finally stir, and step foot once again in Ecumene. 

 _Barely even needing to lift a finger,_ Raines thought.  

Gilgamesh broke the silence with a snort of laughter. 

“What?” Raines knew he wouldn’t like the answer, but a distraction from the bleak aftermath around them was definitely welcome. 

“I thought little blue hair had been exaggerating when She told us; always wondered what we’d have to have done in the present to fuck up so _exponentially_ , that She’d constantly need to remind us.”

Raines’ teeth were grinding against each other before he spoke.  “And has your curiosity been sufficiently sated?”

“ _Quite_.” Said Gilgamesh.  " _Although_ I don’t believe _all_ the blame should fall to us.  Humanity’s selfishness has also proved complicit to their undoing, after all.  On the other hand, we _were_ the ones who relinquished the crystals in the first place. . . ”

Raines grunted and started walking, careful so as to not step through the human remains at his feet.  There was no real need to do so as this place was simply a glimpse of the dark reality humanity was heading toward, but  centuries of being surrounded by death would never be enough to desensitize Raines like the rest the l’cie were. 

“They don’t think less of you for being as you are, you know,” Gilgamesh called.  Raines halted, waiting for the punchline. “At least, I don’t _think_ they would if they _knew_.” 

Raines continued on.  He didn’t care the destination, so long as it put breathing space—actually, space of any kind--between them.  A horde of cieth in pursuit of a heavily bleeding man passed right passed through Raines' essence, but Raines kept on his path as if he hadn’t seen.  Their actions only affected the present, not future. Gilgamesh on the other hand, paused to watch.  There was a scream behind Raines as the cieth caught up to their quarry; futile gunfire as an entire clip was emptied, and then silence. 

Gilgamesh sighed and hurried to catch up to Raines once more.  

“But then, you were curious _too_ , weren’t you?” he called.  “You wanted to see for yourself.”

A flash of light, and Gilgamesh was suddenly in front of Raines, stopping him in his tracks.  His armoured hand rose and touched Raines' cheek; cold steel tender in comparison to the cruel smile on Gilgamesh’s lips.  That same hand now drifted to Raines’ throat. 

“It really should be a question of whether _your_ curiosity has been sufficiently sated, shouldn’t it Raines?”

_I didn’t._

“I. . .”

_I never asked—I never desired for this—_

“ _Liar_.” Gilgamesh whispered, tsk-tsking. 

A strong vortex of wind whipping up gravel a short distance away distracted the two from saying anymore, both glancing toward the source, Gilgamesh letting out a low whistle as Serah’s companion stepped through the time gate behind her.  The moment Noctis took in his surroundings, his cynical façade shattered.  He let out a horrified gasp, crumpling to his knees. 

“ _Gods_. . .”

“Give me a moment?” Serah asked.  The prince nodded woodenly, only half-hearing her. 

Reaching Raines and Gilgamesh, Serah motioned for them to follow until Noctis was safely out of earshot. 

Just to play it safe however, Raines kept his voice low.  “Why him?” He asked.  “Why not Lightning?”

“We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t already tried.” Serah replied, tone bleak.  “ _Countlessly_.  At different points in the ‘present’.”

“And no change?” Gilgamesh asked.

“None.”

“So you decided to bring Noctis.” Raines said.

“And the two of you,” Serah nodded. “I needed him to also see what was at stake.”

Oh, _they_ had _seen_ alright.  And learnt, more importantly.  It was highly likely that Noctis would do the same.

 _Hopefully,_ Gilgamesh added.

“So he really is the Mirus child,” Raines said, softly. 

“Yes.” Serah smiled confidently, except there was something off-putting about it. 

“You want us to protect him?” Gilgamesh added, looking over at the prince with undisguised disdain.

“Not him; Lightning.”

“ _Lightning_?” Raines was confused.  He startled a little when Serah suddenly seized his arm.

“ _You_ need to protect her Raines.  But more importantly you need to—”

“Protect her from _herself_ ,” Gilgamesh said wryly, reflecting on the carnage Odin had wrought.

“If you do your job well, it won’t come to that.”

“And the prophecy?” Raines said.

“It’ll come to pass.  So long as you aren’t selfish.” Serah bowed her head a little, her grasp weakening.  “Cid I know this is a lot to ask. . .a-after Rygdea and Violetta--”

“It will be done.” Raines said, not quite believing the burst of conviction in his tone. “I’ll guide her.”

Serah looked up, smiling wryly at him.  “She won’t make it easy for you.”

“I’d be worried if she didn’t.”

Gilgamesh shook his head. “’Love will save us’,” he quoted.  The mocking light in those red eyes alone could tell _anyone_ the context was lewd and inappropriate.  And if one was bonded to him like Raines was, then the mental images he had at the forefront of his mind were beheld in all their vivid and disturbing detail.

“Yes,” said Serah, resolute and serious enough to wipe the smirk off Gilgamesh’s face. 

“Lightning and Noctis are destined,” Raines said. 

“They _share_ a destiny.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Of course not.” And this time Serah’s smile was sad.

 _Not in the way we think. . ._ Raines suddenly found himself remembering.

Gilgamesh glanced over his shoulder at Noctis the same time Raines did.  He hadn’t moved from where he was kneeling, still overwhelmed by the ruins of the place he once called home.  They glanced back at each other, Gilgamesh now smiling faintly.  Raines caught a glimpse of Enkidu, lying spread-eagle in their Valhalla, laughing in the sunlight in his mind's eye.

“Love and destiny tend to go hand in hand, Seeress,” the eidolon told her.

“Indeed they do.”

 _Just not in the way we think,_ Raines continued to puzzle.  “Is it really so necessary to be so cryptic with _us_ , Serah?”

“Well, last time I _wasn’t_ _—_ you _ran_.” Serah said, looking righteously angry. 

Gilgamesh laughed, clapping a hand against Raines' back.

“I’ve wasted enough time,” said Serah. “Just keep Lightning safe, and everything will fall into place.”

“Yes Seeress,” Raines and Gilgamesh chorused. 

Serah touched the brand on her arm, then thrust out her hand in front of her.  As golden crystal particles began to materialize, sweat beading on Serah’s brow, Raines and Gilgamesh frowned at each other.  Raines didn’t have it in him to ask.  Gilgamesh on the other hand:

“Seeress. . .” He said, in a gentle tone Raines had never, in all his time spent bonded to him, ever heard until now.

Serah's voice shook a little.  “It must be done.”

“She’ll never forgive you for it.” Gilgamesh said quietly. 

“I don’t expect her to.” Serah said softly. “But it’s time I stopped being selfish as well.  For the sake of the world.”

She snapped her fingers and the time gate solidified into reality. 

“Now get going,” she ordered.  “We’ve got a future to save.”

 _You made a promise to her,_ Gilgamesh thought.  “Serah—”

“We’ll protect her,” Raines cut in. He started determinedly for the portal, hands fisting hard at his sides. “Gilgamesh let’s go.”

Gilgamesh shot him a glare in response and turned back to Serah, shaking his head at her.

“We're gonna miss you, kid.”

“You'd better.”

She was smiling as the gates closed between them.  


End file.
